


The Adventures of the Werewolf and the Werewolf's Best Friend

by Ranowa



Series: Harry Potter AU [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Guilt, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Werewolf Discrimination, Werewolf Maes Hughes, trolls and thestrals and centaurs; oh my!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-08 16:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranowa/pseuds/Ranowa
Summary: It’s the last month of their final year at Hogwarts, and everything is going well. Kimbley, however, has decided to get back at Roy and Maes once and for all: he will not allow them to get out of this year unscathed. Or alive.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! :D
> 
> As usual, I seem to be going in borderline backwards chronological order, when it comes to this series. So, once again, there's info in earlier fics that I have yet to write that is pertinent to this fic ;-; This time around, it's all basically:  
> Maes becomes a werewolf third year, Roy becomes an animagus for him like the Marauders did  
> Kimbley bullies Roy and Maes incessantly since their first years  
> Hoho plays the role of Dumbledore, while Voldemort continues to play the role of Voldemort (so no Father). This would be set in roughly the Marauders era, so the first wizarding war hasn't happened yet, but we're building up to it.
> 
> As you can see, 7 chapter fic. I'll update... every three days, I guess? Except I'm planning to post the second chapter later tonight, since this one is a shorter prologue.

"This, my friend, is the shabbiest excuse for _on patrol_ I have ever seen from you."

Roy considered this.

He considered it again, this time actually looking over himself: sitting lazily on a bench, book bag hanging off nearby suit of armor's shield, the stones of the castle wall currently serving as a... rather uncomfortable... pillow. He considered it a third time, this time with the fact that he was currently scheduled for patrol duty in mind.

He shrugged.

"And you've claimed to be studying for finals all afternoon," he said, casting an amused look down at his best friend while not yet managing to lift his head off the wall. "At least I'm available to help someone if they need it. You haven't so much as glanced at a textbook since yesterday."

Maes grunted at him, amused rather than surly, and Roy smirked back and re-settled himself against the wall.

Two years ago, with his prefect badge still shiny and new, Roy wouldn't have dared to so much as sit down when he was slated to patrol around the castle.

Now, with graduation looming right around the corner, and the silvery _Head Boy_ title embroidered into his chest pocket, Roy found himself wanting nothing more to do than to lounge on this bench, long-limbed and lazy, and doze into an afternoon nap. Maes was already halfway there. Roy smirked slightly to himself again, glancing down at his best friend's slack face, resting in his lap... _studying, my ass._

Two years ago, they never could've done this. They weren't anything but friends, but two boys all but cuddling in public wasn't exactly the smartest decision to make... it was strange how much looming finals and graduation had shifted their perspectives. If it set off a little teasing, so what? They wouldn't be here all that long to listen to it anyway.

That, of course, and Maes had an excuse: the night's approaching full moon.

Werewolves ran just a little warmer than full-blooded humans. Just enough for Roy to notice. Somewhat perplexingly, too, like a fever; his hands and face could burn to Roy's touch but Maes would be shivering, wearing his stupid bumblebee sweater to class or curling under a blanket in his common room. It was worse in the days leading up to the full moon, when he was prone to actual fevers anyway, not because of any bacteria or legitimate illness but just his body reacting to the closeness of the transformation. Roy usually tried to be there in Maes' room for the hours before, giving him something warm to curl himself around, but real life liked to intervene. Unfortunate class schedules, meetings with professors, prefect duties...

This was probably the first time that Roy could think of that they both cared so little that Roy had slacked right off of prefect duty, and Maes had slacked right off onto him for it.

Roy swallowed a yawn, considering his slumped best friend again- but this time, with his smile morphing into a slight frown. It was a bit of a joke, about Maes' studying. Classes were all but done, NEWTs approaching in three weeks and class time devoted to studying and questions, with nothing left after that but a coast to graduation. Most of their classmates already had potential or assistantships lined up, contingent on their NEWT scores, but... Maes was a bit of a unique case.

And Roy along with him.

Oh, it wasn't that Maes hadn't had plenty of _offers._ His grades and professor recommendations were spectacular, and his coursework had kept a lot of opportunities open to him.

But Maes had done the research, into those opportunities. And he'd learned the door would've slammed shut on each and every one of them, when those employers learned he was a werewolf.

Maes had spent the last couple months in a determinedly positive state, disguising his disappointment and nerves whenever anyone asked about it, even someone in the know, like Roy or McGonagall. Roy imagined it wasn't hard.

It wasn't as if it was new information, that a werewolf didn't have very many options.

And, Roy...

Roy swallowed tightly, looking down to his best friend, and only allowed himself another grimace only when he assured himself that his green eyes were still closed with his glasses slipping off his nose.

Roy was like Maes: grades, recommendations, and coursework to get him into nearly any position that he was interested in. He'd gotten three owls this week alone, one from the Ministry, one from St. Mungo's, and one from a foreign curse-breaker group, and each one was stacking up uneasily in his bedside table, no matter how much Maes urged him to respond.

They'd promised each other to become Hogwarts professors. It was the only job of decency that Maes could have, with his condition, and Roy had convinced him he could make it, and _promised_ him they'd make it together.

It wasn't until now that he'd actually been forced to reckon with how unlikely that actually was.

It wasn't until now, as he watched Maes' shoulders slump more and more with each offer he couldn't accept, while the stack of legitimate possibilities only stacked up higher for Roy, knotting his stomach with anger and unease, that he was being forced to consider breaking his promise, and leaving his best friend behind.

Roy swallowed hard after several moments, squeezing his eyes shut to chase such thoughts from his mind. He still had time, right? He'd always have time. Push came to shove, he could take a year off like so many of their classmates were talking about, and if he and Maes couldn't figure anything out by then- well, they'd deal with it then. They had time.

And right now was not the time to bring any of this up, or make himself miserable by letting it weigh down on his mind. This was one of the few peaceful days they had left before all of these questions became impossible to ignore for any longer, and, damn it, they were going to make the best of it.

Roy forced another slight smile, nodding to himself. He curled his arm a little more over the exhausted, dozing figure in his lap, giving him the most warmth that he could, and prepared to settle himself in for a few more hours of relaxation.

With OWLs and NEWTs coming up, fifth years and seventh years were mostly locked up in the library if they weren't with professors begging for help. The other end of year exams were a little later, but most students were busy all the same, especially this late in the afternoon, and not busy anywhere near them. They were sitting near the entrance to the Whomping Willow (by no accident), which wasn't exactly the most popular location for students to visit, so they had been good and pretty isolated for at least the last half hour. And Roy wouldn't have been that surprised if that lucky streak had continued on until sunset, by which point, neither of them would've been left sitting here in the castle.

He _was_ surprised, however, when ended up not being the case.

A small, young figure stumbled abruptly in through the castle entrance, robes dusted in pine needles and hair matted with twigs, looking as if he'd spent the day rolling about on the grounds and not much else. He was a first-year, a Slytherin- Augustus Black; Roy recognized him immediately, because he'd made it his responsibility to know every new student in his house and look out for them. He also recognized that the boy, who ought to have been in class right now, was stumbling in from outside roughed up, alone- and even here, across the hall, Roy could see that he was shaken.

Instantly, his previously calm fled, and in its place rose a new sense of worry.

"Maes," he murmured, shaking his shoulder gently with one hand while already starting to shift him off his lap with the other. "Maes. Duty calls."

"...hmm?" Maes grumbled at him, seeming still half asleep but rousing. "Wuzzat...?"

"Duty calls," he said again, pushing harder at his shoulder without looking down. Somehow, Roy was able to situate him back more safely on the bench while keeping his eyes on the first year who was still stumbling, now looking about as if for help, missing the two seventh years half hidden in the shadow of the suit of armor.

Well, there went the rest of his peaceful afternoon.

"Black!" he called, shoving to his feet to jog across the hall. The way the boy started at his name, jerking around to stare at him with huge, frightened eyes was most definitely not a good sign. "Hey- Black, it's me. Roy. Is something wrong?"

Roy knew all his first years, and all his first years, he hoped, knew him; Augustus Black, tiny and bruised and obviously shaken from something, was no exception, by the relieved realization that bloomed in his eyes and the way he reached forward the moment Roy was close enough, desperately grabbing for his sleeve to tug. "R- Roy? Roy, it's you! Thank god, I- I was l-looking-"

"Hey, hey, calm down..." Slightly alarmed now, Roy started to get down on his knees, trying to get a better look at him, but the first year was not exactly cooperative. Still babbling and red-faced, and too jumpy for Roy to manage to see if he was actually injured or hexed or just upset. "It's just me, okay? Can you tell me what happened?"

"It's... it's C-Cath... Roy, I'm sorry-" And now, to his horror, Roy realized the boy was actually _crying,_ rubbing at his eyes with a trembling hand, "Roy, I tried to stop her, but she just kept poking around-"

"Cath... Catherine?" Roy asked worriedly, his brow furrowing. Catherine Armstrong, first year Hufflepuff, one that he cared a particular bit about due to his debt to Olivier, and fast and loyal friend of Augustus Black. What was going on? "Black, slow down..."

But before the first year could continue on, before he could even get past another sniffle, there was suddenly another presence at his side, hand reaching out to his shoulder and falling right into step beside Roy. "It's okay, it's okay, kid, just calm down, all right?" Maes assured, smiling encouragingly at him like he'd been there all along. "Just slow down, try and explain what happened to us."

Roy took a heartbeat to shoot him an irritated look, a look that grew even heavier when his bookbag appeared from nowhere to be slung over his shoulder, Maes patting the strap into place a second later. _You're supposed to be RESTING,_ he thought unhappily, glaring at his disheveled, already yawning best friend.

Maes stuck his tongue out at him, and then, in the same breath, returned his attention down to the young student still sniffling before them.

Roy groaned.

"We were- were in the Forbidden Forest..." Augustus gasped, and that right there was probably the least promising start to anything that boy could've said. "We weren't gonna go far, we just wanted to see the Hippogriffs, we weren't- they're supposed to be right on the path, that's what they _said,_ we were j-just going to look at them... but they weren't there...!"

Roy's frown deepened, and a glance at Maes confirmed that his friend was perturbed as well. "And?" he prompted cautiously, hand still resting in what he hoped was a reassuring way on the boy's shoulder.

It took a few moments for Augustus to steady his voice enough to go on, speaking even with still nervous eyes and shaking hands. "I wanted to come back, Roy, I said we should come back, that we weren't supposed to be there, but she wouldn't listen... she said they had to be right around the corner, she'd just run off to check, but- but I couldn't find her! She ran off and I don't know where she went! I couldn't find her, I looked _everywhere,_ I kept calling her name, but she was just- just _gone!"_

Roy waited for several seconds, hoping he would continue, hoping there was something, _anything_ forthcoming, anything that would turn this increasingly bad situation around and give it something positive- but there was not. Augustus just continued to stare up at him, panting and shaking, terror burnt into his eyes, and the horrid moments dragged on, and Roy realized that there was nothing more than what he had already said.

A first year, lost in the Forbidden Forest.

Bloody _fantastic._

"Come on," Roy said firmly, grip sliding from small shoulder to small hand, already starting to straighten up. "You need to tell a teacher what you just told me, right away... Hughes, McGonagall should be in her office right now, right? Or Flitwick, he's running study period for the next hour-"

"No!"

Startled, Roy let himself be yanked to a stop by another tug on his arm, Augustus holding his ground and, if possible, even more panicked than before. _"No!"_ the boy cried again, hold tightening, "We weren't supposed to be there, we'll get in trouble- please, just help me look for her! She can't have gone too far-" and now he was backpedaling, retreating towards the castle doors with obviously no desire to search out a far more qualified professor in a situation that probably really needed one. "Please, just help me look! Just a little? She can't have gone far, but we'll get in so much trouble- please, Roy-"

Roy shook his head, refusing to allow himself to be swayed. He'd been a first year, he remembered detention and the deduction of house points feeling like the end of the world- but he wasn't a first year anymore. The Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place those not prepared for it, and now was not the time to try and fix this himself, it was the time to alert professors before Catherine got herself seriously hurt, or worse.

Except Augustus was still pulling and moving away, Maes stumbling in surprise alongside him while Roy was barely better than him, not as resistant as he should have been just from how taken aback he was. Suddenly they were already outside, the first year even more desperate than before, he and Maes being tugged over the long grass to the forest looming so nearby, Augustus still babbling, and when Roy finally woke up enough to exert his full strength to hold him still the child shot out of his damn hands, moving at an almost break neck pace for the trees.

"Catherine!" he shouted, voice nearly cracking with the panic. "Catherine, _Catherine!_ I've got prefects, Catherine, I'm coming! _Catherine?!"_

Roy, still stumbling on at a jog on default, blinked. He glanced at Maes, who looked just as out of sorts as him.

"...Prefect, huh?" he deadpanned after a moment, all but slackjawed.

Maes, incurable prankster, would've died of laughter if he'd been given a prefect badge Hughes, smirked, shrugged, and picked up the pace, using his longer stride to outrun Roy and start catching up to Augustus without a second thought.

Roy, once again, groaned. He glared up at Maes' back.

Even from behind him, he could see what a mess he was, and even from behind him, Roy looked reluctantly to figure that had been half-asleep in his lap just minutes before. Maes, as usual with this time of the month, was flushed, fevered, and sore. His robes were already a bit wrinkled and disheveled, glasses slipping down his nose and shoulders sagging with fatigue, and staring at his back, Roy could see it wouldn't take much for him to overbalance and fall.

Just a heartbeat before he, too, was enveloped in the deep shadows of the forest, he turned his gaze away from his best friend and glanced up overhead instead, to the sun in the sky.

They had two hours until sunset.

Until moonrise.

 _This is such a bad idea,_ he thought, squared his shoulders, and headed straight after Maes and his first year into the forest.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update on Tuesday. Hopefully, I'll see you then! :D
> 
> (hahahahaha that's right my chapters are still 10k. deal with it kids :'D)

Unlike Roy, Maes did not know Augustus Black or Catherine Armstrong. So he still wasn't too sure what was going on here- but in the end, that answer wasn't even that important to him. Because also unlike Roy, he didn't feel the need to run to a teacher for every little thing... even if it might- _might-_ have been a little warranted here.

Because as worrisome as this situation seemed, so far, they had it _absolutely_ under control!

Maes had been exploring the forest under direct supervision ever since third year had started him with Care of Magical Creatures. Roy, a city boy through and through, had dropped the class right quick, because he made a face whenever he got mud on his hands, but Maes stuck with it to the point that he knew the earlier parts of this forest better than the back of his own hand. He knew what he was dong here, and, more importantly, it would be faster if Maes explored out here right now than it was for them to run back to the castle, fetch a professor, run all the way back out here- and then probably still have to guide the way, because he knew the paths of the forest a lot better than McGonagall or Flitwick or Slughorn.

It was safer this way. The quicker they moved, the better. And, while he understood Roy's worries and Augustus' outright terror, this wasn't an actual disaster, not yet- the Forbidden Forest wasn't just a sandbox of death traps. Perhaps it seemed that way, to first years who were purposefully scared away from it with such stories and _certain_ seventh years who'd avoided it as much as possible, but- for Merlin's sake, it crawled right up close to the school. It wasn't _actually_ as bad as the rumors said, because it was, then they'd have a body count every year from the younger students who inevitably wandered out to explore along the edges. Theose stretches nearest to Hogwarts were perfectly safe, and by design; the worst Catherine could've run into was an annoyed centaur.

It was much easier, much safer, and much less big a deal, if Maes was able to just find the young Armstrong himself, then lead the way out.

His ears twitched slightly, another cold shiver working its way down his spine. Every inch of him was sore and unsettled, and even as he jogged along the twisted path, his stomach knotted itself, as if angry at him for taking off at a run instead of just dozing on that castle bench and letting Roy grab a teacher the way he'd wanted to.

 _You'll feel better in a few hours_ , he promised himself unhappily trying not to shiver again. _Just a few more hours, Hughes..._

The fact that he could just feel Roy's eyes resting heavily on his back, worried and concerned, also wasn't helping.

And _neither_ was the fact that Augustus seemed determined to run a god-dammed marathon rather than let he and Roy lead the search themselves.

"Dammed kid," he muttered under his breath, because he was in pain and sick and could at least allow himself this much. The only reason he was able to keep up at all was his much longer stride, but if the first year kept this sprinting up even he was going to fall behind. "Augustus, wait-!"

"I got him," Roy assured from behind, suddenly picking up speed to rush around to intercept the first year. His best friend caught up just as Augustus was trying to turn another corner and grabbed for his collar, keeping him in place. Maes could even hear him starting to lecture, shaking his finger in the boy's face and voice rising, but he was too far away to hear what was said and too worn out to bother speeding up to listen.

Maes grappled for the nearest old, rough tree, leaning himself up against it to crouch over, hands on his knees, panting. His arms and legs shook, fingers scratching and tearing into his robes as he hauled in shuddering breaths and hunched over, fighting through the pounding in his head to keep himself upright and conscious.

His vision spun nauseatingly for several moments, not for lack of breath but more likely the fatigue that still hung down on him like an iron, inescapable weight. His black and dark gold scarf swayed slowly like a pendulum, back and forth, back and forth, one end frayed, a welcome warmth around his neck no matter how warm Roy kept telling him it was outside, and he stared at it and the way it matched his robes, trying to focus on the colors and keep his stomach from rebelling.

Slowly, twitchily, he looked to his hands. His scarred, human hands.

His vision blurred again, and he saw them shift into clawed, furred monstrosities.

Maes swallowed hard, blinking fiercely, forcing his hands back into place. His stomach flipped miserably again.

This...

This was not going to be a good day.

For several seconds, Maes just stayed there and breathed, trying to steady his mind and his hands. He sucked in breath after breath, trying not to throw up and focus on something beyond the pain, something beyond what was going to happen in just a couple hours.

"...Maes?"

Maes stiffened, flinching back before his mind had even caught up with the question. "What?" he heard himself ask, blinking hard again, and it took a heartbeat for a worried Roy to blur into focus, an equally worried first year now held to his side tightly by the hand.

"Maes," his best friend said again, eyes narrowing. "Go back to the castle. You're not well. You-"

"I- no. _No,_ I'm fine." Scrubbing his eyes, Maes shoved off the tree and tugged his robes straight with one violent tug. "I'm _fine,_ Roy." His life was already blocked off and his opportunities vaporized _enough_ because of his damn _condition;_ he was not going to start turning around to walk away from what little he could do now. Not when he had so little time left to even have this opportunity in the first place. He shrugged away from Roy's worried hand, maneuvering it off him, and turned the strongest, most encouraging smile he could down on the still shaken Augustus, determined to see this through to the end.

"You said you came here looking for the Hippogriffs, right?" he asked, barely even waiting for a nervous nod as an answer before pushing himself forward again. "They were moved last week. Professor Heinkel had to bring them closer to the school for end of the year exams; you won't be finding them anywhere in the Forbidden Forest right now."

Roy's frown deepened, the hand on his arm starting to slacken as his face creased in concern. "So if Miss Armstrong's trying to look for them..."

"She'll run in circles until she's so hopelessly lost she won't know up from down."

Roy's frown pulled down even worse. Behind him, Augustus let out a small, frightened little squeak.

Maes cleared his throat, again moving forward just another step. He withdrew his wand as steadily as he could, taking in another meant to be calming breath, and arced it out before him, murmuring, " _Homenum Revelio."_ His wand warmed immediately and swiveled, hot under his hands, twitching back and forth as it searched for the presence of a human nearby.

It pinpointed on Roy. Then, a moment later, on Augustus. Then back to Roy.

Back and forth, first year and seventh year. Nobody else.

Maes sighed again, business-like as he could make it, and shook his head at Roy, willing the spell to end. "She must not be close enough to us. Let's keep looking, okay?" And he pushed on, trudging over the uneven dirt and keeping his wand out, squinting into the darkness and preparing to cast the spell again.

Roy, again, fell into step beside him, though he could still feel his concerned eyes boring into his side. "Could our proximity to Hogwarts be affecting the spell...?"

Maes nodded distractedly, though his focus was still more on keeping his progress steady over the uneven ground. Charms had always not been Roy's strong suit. "The further away we get, the easier it should be... assuming she's here, anyway..."

"She has to be! She wouldn't have left without me! Come on, come on!"

Again, Maes just turned his focus away, allowing Roy to handle it as Augustus tried to sprint off. This probably would be a lot easier without the first year tagging along, but of course they could not just leave him behind... perhaps it would be a bit easier if Roy went on by himself while Maes stayed with Augustus, ensuring the first year was looked after by the semi-invalid while Roy could use his wolf form to sniff out Catherine. Roy certainly wouldn't let Maes go on alone, at this point.

But with how Augustus kept pulling on Roy's hand and trying to run off, it just wasn't a safe idea. The kid obviously would try and run off no matter who was watching him, and with the way he felt right now, Maes couldn't be sure he'd be able to stop him.

The last thing they needed was _two_ kids lost in the Forbidden Forest.

So, with a heavy sigh, Maes trudged onwards, brushing droopy, overhanging branches away from his face and listening with still twitching ears for any sign of the missing student. Roy walked by his side, while Augustus continued trying to pull at his hand and run off, shouting Catherine's name in a way that was starting to grate on his ears... and his patience.

First was the actually safe sections of the forest, the ones Maes had had class in and could navigate very well. He stopped every couple of minutes, casting his search charm again, but it never latched onto anything but Roy and Augustus. They never ran into anything else dangerous, at least, so if they were safe, Catherine had to be, too- but they never found her, and the further they traveled, the more unsettled by that Maes became. They weren't exactly being quiet, here, and he'd already led them past the now empty paddock that was where the Hippogriffs usually were... why wasn't she answering them? By god, Augustus hadn't quit shouting her name since they'd showed up here. Why wasn't she calling back to them?

He doubted it was because she was too hurt to call out, because what would've hurt her? They hadn't run into anything but a couple of squirrels, so far. Centaurs may not have been huge fans of humans, but they wouldn't have brutally attacked a small, upset child, and they were the only actually dangerous creatures who were commonplace this early on in the forest. Hell, the creatures most capable of hurting a first year that Maes would've expected to run into here were the Hippogriffs, and they weren't even here!

Finally, while Augustus still yanked on his hand and cried his friend's name, Roy stopped Maes with a warm grip on his shoulder, pulling him back a little. "Maes, I think we're in over our heads here," he cautioned quietly, a hint of authority growing underneath his voice as his hand tightened. "We need to go back... we don't have that long, anyway, Maes, especially with..."

He trailed off uncomfortably then, his voice fading into silence and concern growing in his eyes. He did not need to finish his statement for Maes to know where he was headed.

His jaw clenched, his headache pounded hard, and, coldly, Maes yanked away from him as hard as he could.

"I'm not useless," he hissed, "or at least, I won't be until I graduate."

"Maes- Maes, I'm not-"

 _"Homenum Revelio!"_ he all but shouted, jerking his wand through the air, and stormed onwards straight past his best friend, and the only one who understood him in the world.

He wasn't useless. He _wasn't._

Maes marched angrily ahead, squinting all over the forest as his heart pounded and his hands shook. He could barely hear Roy behind him, barely even keep himself up on his feet but that didn't matter; he was just as capable as Roy no matter what curse was in his blood and this was simple, wasn't it? He knew the forest like the back of his own hand, and they were just looking for a lost kid! That was it!

Why wasn't he finding her?! Why wasn't he finally managing to do _something?!_

 _"Homenum Revelio,"_ he gasped again, waving his wand through the spell once more. It warmed and turned jerkily, fixating on Roy, then his tiny charge, then right back again, and Maes cursed and again stowed it away.

He'd find her, eventually. Werewolf or not, he was still capable of at least this much.

He had to be.

* * *

They progressed further into the forest.

They didn't find Catherine Armstrong.

Roy had stopped interrogating him, at some point. His worried eyes kept boring into his back and he kept straying closer to him, watching him, ready to reach out and support him if he should ever need it, but he'd quit actually saying as such out loud and Maes could only be grateful for it. That, added with the urgency of the situation at hand, and Maes had been able to put his irritation aside.

He felt worse.

With every next minute, he felt worse.

His transformation was coming.

Even Augustus seemed to be getting tired, no longer yelling Catherine's name or pulling quite so hard on Roy's hand. Now he just stumbled along beside them, scrubbing at his face every couple of minutes, his feet too small over the twisted roots. They were all scratched with thorns and out of breath from pushing their way through the cold, wet vines. They were all worn out from the emotional rollercoaster as well as the hike, and Maes, with his upcoming transformation, was wishing more and more it'd be safe enough for him to just camp out in the nearest clearing until morning.

And still: no Catherine Armstrong.

Finally, Maes glanced down to check at his watch again. 5:15 PM, and still ticking.

He swallowed a reluctant groan, heart still shuddering in his chest, and reached out to touch Roy's shoulder again.

His best friend had already been turning to face him, dark eyes clouded with the exact same concern that was weighing Maes down right now. They nodded to each other, both slowing down in mutual, unspoken agreement. "I think I need to head back, Roy," he said quietly, hands shaking miserably again, and was endlessly thankful when his friend at least did not rub it in.

"I'll come back with you. We'll-"

"No. No, Roy, you don't need to do that." Tugging a hand roughly through his hair, Maes leaned back against a tree, catching his breath and considering all the options before him. "You need to find Catherine and can't leave Augustus by himself. I- don't worry about me, Roy. I'm not more important than this and I don't need to be taken care of."

Roy's eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing again in obvious worry, but he kept silent, and that, too, Maes was thankful for. He may have been a werewolf, and he may have been a failure even at this task tonight- but he was not going to allow Roy to escort him back instead of staying with Augustus. He did _not_ need help or handholding. He was not going to ruin this, or let his condition ruin it for him.

So, instead, he simply just waved his friend's concerns off even as he still panted for breath, fighting not to betray how exhausted and sore he still was, and forced a weak, brittle smile. "I'll... I'll head back, let Professor Heinkel know what's going on if I have time- you need to stay out here and keep looking. Don't worry about me, Roy; I did this for years before you- I'll make it through one more night."

His friend continued to watch him worriedly, but Maes returned the look with a brave smile that he meant every inch of. The very worst of what he could do tonight would be dragging Roy back with him to keep watch over him tonight while there was someone else out here who needed him. Maes hated what was happening, hated he was having to turn around at all, could already feel his heart sinking with the disappointment because if he couldn't even do this much maybe the wizarding world was _right_ to cast him out-

But he would deal with all those things tomorrow.

Tonight, they were out of time.

Maes looked at Roy for several more moments, tense and worried, but at last, best friend pulled away, pinching his nose with a trembling hand and shoulders stiff and angry. Maes made another weak smile at his back but swiftly had to turn his focus down towards where Augustus waited, big eyes staring between them and over-bright with confusion. As quickly as he could, Maes got down on his knees before him, trying to look at him in as reassuring way as he could.

"Augustus, I'm going to leave you with Roy now, okay?" he said warmly. "Something's come up, and... and I really have to get back to the castle right now. But Roy will stay with you and keep looking, and I'll talk to a professor, so you'll get some help in an hour or two, okay? Will you be okay with that?"

The first year blinked up at him, wide-eyed and quiet, wand wavering by his side and face flushed and scratched and oddly expressionless. He didn't answer him, just staring at him wordlessly, and ordinarily, Maes would've go on, tried to reassure and comfort him- but right now Maes was on so tight a schedule he could hang himself with it.

The full moon was coming.

He didn't have time.

So when Augustus didn't do anything but blink up at him, seeming confused and oddly silent, Maes simply had no choice but to swallow hard, pat his shoulder again, then straighten up. He turned to Roy, nodding gravely to him once, finally passing off the baton to him- and with a heavy heart, begin to proceed away.

And then, for the first time in almost half an hour, Augustus spoke up.

"I was expecting you might say that soon."

Maes' brow furrowed, the way his skin already itched and crawled somehow feeling even more uncomfortable. He started to glance back over his shoulder, turning his frayed, exhausted attention back down to the first year.

He stood frozen for one shocked, disbelieving, utterly uncomprehending heartbeat.

And then he threw himself at Roy, shouting out his friend's name, just as Augustus smiled, and sent a wordless jet of blue light directly at his best friend.

After that, everything transformed into chaos for a long time.

Maes hit the ground, and the only reason he knew it was the feel of the rock scratching into his face and the way the forest floor rolled underneath him. His stomach rebelled and his vision blurred into a nauseating mess and his body spiked with white hot pain, the yells and bursts of light around him too much for his already frazzled brain so it just shut down. He curled around himself on instinct and gasped and whimpered, pain tightening his throat shut, but Roy was shouting and he couldn't think- and all he saw was Augustus, smiling as he raised his wand in the dark, and aiming right at Roy's turned back.

When his head finally quit spinning enough for Maes to grasp at reality again, it was to find himself lying curled and bleeding on the ground, gasping so hard his lungs hurt. He was sprawled on the rough and dirty forest floor, staring at the slope of a bedraggled hill and the creeping realization that he had just tumbled down it, finding himself dumped in a clearing alone, scratched, and desperate. He felt too dizzy to sit up, and when he even tried to move, the horrific whiplash of pain through his leg was so bad he nearly threw up then and there.

Something was badly wrong. Something was really, really badly wrong with him.

"R- Roy-" he coughed, first a hoarse whisper, and then, in shock, fought his voice louder, gingerly maneuvering his head off the rough pillow of twigs. "Roy- Roy, where are-?"

His best friend hurtled into view just a heartbeat later, backpedaling at the top of the hill, wand swiped this way and that as jets of light shot off and crashed earsplittingly into nearby trees. _"Maes!"_ Roy shouted, looking frantically over his shoulder, then jerked back around just another time to block another curse.

What the hell was going on?! "I'm- I'm fine!" Maes shouted back to him as loudly as he could, slowly pushing himself upright, heart pounding in his ears as his whole body shook like a leaf, bleeding hands trembling and leg screaming. He could hear laughter- Augustus... Augustus was _laughing,_ high-pitched, frantic, child-like _laughter-_

What was going _on?!_

"Roy-!" he called out again, but his best friend was already scrambling down the too steep hill, shielding again and again in white-faced shock while Augustus continued to try and curse him. "Roy, over here!"

But the Slytherin was more focused on keeping himself upright and un-cursed to turn to face him; when his friend finally skidded down in a shower of pine needles, it was to Augustus laughing even louder and a gleaming gold curse blazing through the darkness like a rocket. Roy barely got his wand up in time and the ricochet had Maes covering his head and pressing it back down to the dirt.

What the _hell-_

"Maes!" Roy finally cried, throwing himself over to him with a stricken look of panic on his face. "Maes, are you all right?!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, don't worry about me- Roy, what is this?! What's he-"

_"Protego!"_

Maes covered his head again on instinct alone, but Roy's shield reflected the curse just in time. Not that this stopped Augustus from continuing to advance, and Roy was left to kneel in front of him like an overprotective guard dog, reflecting off every spell that he could and blocking those that he could not. Maes scrambled again, pushing himself upright as much as he could while Roy fought off their attacker with ease, but it wasn't enough- Roy was the best duelist in the damn school, why wasn't he fighting back, why wasn't he-?

"Come on, Roy, what're you doing?!"

"He's just a kid!" Roy sputtered frantically, blocking without firing back yet again. "I can't just- Black, stop this! Why are you- _Protego!"_

"You haven't guessed, Mustang?" the boy called, voice splitting with laughter again. "You really haven't guessed?"

"What are you-"

The boy laughed nearly hysterically again, skidding at last down to the same clearing that Maes had been thrown down into, brandishing his wand for a curse- how was he using nonverbal spells, they only started learning nonverbal magic in their sixth year, how was this first year doing it, who _was_ this, why was he-?

"And what about you, Hughesy? You don't remember me yet?"

"I- _what?"_ Maes mumbled in disbelief, staring. _Hughesy?_ "What are you-..."

...Hughesy...?

But... the only person who'd ever called him Hughesy was...

"You're not Augustus Black," Roy said abruptly. Slowly, his back still to Maes, his friend started to rise off the muddy ground, skin scratched, robes torn, and wand leveled on the eleven year old child before them- the child who stood there, bleeding and dirtied, too... and beaming. Roy carefully rose to his feet, never once lowering his wand or his eyes from the child, standing before Maes like a tensed and ready guard dog, eyes just as wide and shocked as Maes currently felt. "You're not him."

And the boy, that child who may or may not have been Augustus Black, tilted his head to look up at Roy, and grinned even broader. "Remember me, Mustang? Hughesy?" he asked again, turning his wand right at Roy once more.

"You're..." Roy scrubbed one shaking hand across his face, the other still holding his wand steady and true, "you're-."

His back to Maes, whatever change came over Roy's expression, he couldn't see it. But he heard the cold shock in his voice, he saw the way the tenseness in his back shifted, and he saw the way his shoulders fell from the urgency of an unknown into the horror of realization.

And he didn't need Roy to realize it for him, anymore, because Maes already knew exactly who that boy really was.

"You're K-"

_"CRUCIO!"_

_"ROY!"_

But Maes' yell came to late.

His best friend hit the ground screaming, and with a look on his face that he would never forget for the rest of his life.

His friend shook and he _shrieked_ on the ground- oh god his face, his _face,_ he looked like he was dying- he shrieked and he screamed and he _screeched,_ a deep, guttural sort of howl, one louder and more filled with pain than Maes remembered even from his werewolf form, he twisted and trembled, he contorted in anguish-

And Kimbley stood there across from him, the tip of his wand glowing a brilliant red, and his face stretched into a ghoulish, terrifying smile.

Zolf Kimbley, with Augustus' glasses hanging off his collar, and his robes scratched and torn the exact same way Augustus' had been, and his skin still rippling as he rose up from the ground like an eerie, demented tree, looming taller and taller- and _smiling. Smiling._

Zolf Kimbley smiled, as Roy spasmed on the forest floor, and screamed silently into the mud- mouth open, but out of oxygen with which to cry out.

Maes' blood boiled.

"Heh..." Kimbley murmured, eyes glinting as he creaked to a stop, at last no longer growing taller in what Maes at last finally recognized as something he'd never seen out of textbook until now: polyjuice potion. "I've always wanted to try that curse on a human." His smile grew just a little more, and then, horrifically, he tightened his grip on his still sparking wand.

He started to raise it again- mouth already forming the disgusting word.

“If you don’t lower your wand in the next three seconds," Maes hissed, "I am going to blow your fucking arm off.”

Kimbley, attention still focused down on Roy's shivering form, frowned. His cold eyes flickered from him to Maes, but it was too late for him to take advantage of the upset, because Maes was already up as much as he could get, propped up on one knee and sitting as straight up as he could and wand arm held steady no matter how much the rest of him shook.

And he meant it.

Perhaps he and Roy hadn't been able to block Kimbley's cruciatus curse, because that curse could not be blocked. But the fact remained that Kimbley's wand was on Roy, and if it so much as twitched in the wrong way- he so much as fucking _started_ to say that horrible curse again- Maes would willfully and happily blow apart his goddamn arm.

Kimbley glanced between him and Roy for a moment, that horrible smile of his still firmly in place, but he didn't move to curse either of them again. After one horrible, stricken moment in which Maes found himself very, very close to sending the most violent curse that he could straight at the psychopath waiting before them, he lowered his wand off of Roy.

Some small part of Maes was disappointed, because all he wanted was the excuse.

But this was abruptly so much more than all he'd wanted to ever do to Kimbley, this was abruptly so much more than what that psychopath had _just done_ to Roy, and all Maes could do was keep his eyes and his wand on Kimbley even as he lowered his hand to Roy. "Buddy?" he called hoarsely, fumbling clumsily to touch his face, not daring to take his eyes off Kimbley for even a second. "Buddy, you okay? It's okay, I got you..."

Roy groaned, the cold face under his hand turning a little, and when Kimbley's smirk grew at the sound a white hot, explosive rage grew up with such suddenness inside him it was all Maes could do now to let out a howl of anger. "Wh-what did you just _do?!"_ he gasped aloud, voice unsteady with the shock and not intimidating at all, half enraged, half desperate. "You just- that's a life sentence in Azkaban! You could've killed one of us! I- what the _hell,_ Kimbley?!"

But Kimbley just shrugged, clearly sure to keep an even distance between them that was not to be broached, since Maes couldn't walk and Roy couldn't even stand. "I was actually aiming for Mustang," he sighed, gesturing at Maes, "but you know? This works just as well."

" _What_ works just as well?! What the hell is wrong with you, you- you- you fucking psychopa-"

"Armstrong," Roy coughed suddenly. Maes' heart lurched, and it was almost, _almost_ enough to tear him away from their terrorizer, but he steeled himself and kept his wand and eyes up even as he felt his best friend starting to turn under his hand. "Miss Armstrong... and Augustus Black... where are they?"

Maes' stomach knotted again, urgency and fear tightening inside him. He tried to keep his hand on Roy but felt it slide from his face to his shoulder as his friend managed to sit up, just barely, propped up on one arm and shivering and panting before him, pressing into Maes' hand like it was a security blanket.

Maes' throat tightened again, and his fist curled even closer around his wand.

Kimbley moved another slow step away from them, guarded and careful; Maes sure as hell wasn't about to chase him. "They're alive," he said, with a vagueness that was as infuriating as it was intentional, "and I'm quite sure they'll be just fine... you'd know, wouldn't you?"

"...Excuse me?" Roy bit out, trembling and in pain but _angry._ Maes could not help but grip his shoulder tighter.

Kimbley's cruel smile, again, broadened. "Wouldn't you, Mustang? Know how a rough experience in your first year can craft a student into a nice, obedient Head Boy or Girl?"

There was a cold, unbelievable moment of silence. Kimbley continued to smile. Roy, forced down to his knees, still trembling, still hurt. Maes blinked, slowly turning the words over in his head.

Then everything clicked into place, and broken leg or not, Maes had hurtled onto his feet as violently as he could and thrown himself towards Kimbley with all the violence of a wild boar.

"I'll kill you! How dare you?! How _dare_ you?! I'll kill you, I'll fucking _kill you!_ You psychopath, you-"

_"Silencio!"_

Maes gasped, choking off into silence at just an angry swipe of Kimbley's wand. Perhaps it was for the best, because his yell had been just about to taper off into a pathetic whimper of agony, and he only had a half second longer on his knees before he toppled back to the ground, and this time, it was Roy who caught him.

"I don't have to listen to either of you talk, anymore," Kimbley snapped, withdrawing another steady step back up the hill. "No- no. This time, _you_ are going to listen to _me."_

"You can shut your mouth, Kimbley," Roy returned steadily. "You think you're getting away with this?! We'll tell the headmaster- this isn't just a fucking prank, you'll be expelled! You're insane! You'll be-

 _"Silencio!"_ Kimbley shouted again, even louder than before; Roy buckled with the weight of the charm but his fellow Slytherin was already advancing again, waving his wand at them and smirk growing into a sneer like he was a petulant child. "I'm not sticking around to be expelled, Mustang. You think I'm staying at Hogwarts after doing this? I didn't waste a month of my time brewing polyjuice and following you two about just so you could sit me down in the headmaster's office for a damn _lecture,"_ he hissed, voice dripping with a disgusting sort of mockery. He paused again, sneer twisting in that disgusting, smug arrogance that had been following Maes for years and Roy for even longer. "And you two," he went on quietly, "have got a lot more to worry about than me."

Maes glared, enraged words building in his throat even as his Kimbley's silencing charm tightened its strangehold on him, not allowing even a whisper past his lips even as his heart pounded in his ears hard enough for him to scream. What, was he going to try and kill them, now? Cursing the two of them down a hill, leading them out here at all, that wasn't enough; was he going to try and kill them now? Or maybe torture them like he'd already done to Roy? Even while being outnumbered and outmatched, because Roy could duel him to a defeat any day of the week and Maes was _done_ taking that psychopath's shit-

Except Kimbley was laughing. He stood there, he smiled viciously at them both, and he tilted his head back, and he _laughed._

"You idiots!" he cried, "You _idiots!_ Did you forget what day it is?! Ha! _Ha!"_

Maes tensed again, He shared an uneasy look with Roy, the first time he'd met his eyes since Kimbley had hit him with the cruciatus curse, then looked back at their nemesis again.

Kimbley's smile only grew.

"It's the _full moon,_ you morons! You blood traitor! You half breed! It's the _full moon!"_

Maes, again, stiffened. Ice shot down in his spine, flooding him from head to toe with a cold sort of anger for Roy in time with the sickened shame of who he really was. He glared at Kimbley, no longer held quiet by Kimbley's spell but his own disgust. Roy, underneath his hand, had gone just as tense and still, and for just a heartbeat, he wondered what the worst of it would really be, if they blew that monster apart here and now.

It was the first time Kimbley had ever said it to his face. Oh, they'd _known_ that Kimbley knew- but this was the first time he'd ever said it out loud and right to him.

Werewolf.

He was a werewolf, and Kimbley knew it.

In that moment, he felt some last remaining fragile bit of his childhood of Hogwarts die.

But Roy spoke up almost immediately, the way he had for years, speaking up for him and ignoring the fact that he should also speak up for himself. "You got a damn point, Kimbley? Were you somehow under the impression that we don't know how to deal with that by now? You think he'll just keel over dead if he transforms anywhere other than the Shack?"

"No," Kimbley returned steadily, smirking, still trembling a bit, voice all but cracking with laughter as if this was simply hysterical to him. "But I think _you_ might have some trouble if he transforms and you're out here with him."

Maes narrowed his eyes, remaining silent, curling his hand a little tighter around his friend's shoulder. He was a werewolf- and Roy was an animagus. Roy was one of the only people in the school who'd be safe here with him but the fact remained that Roy would be safe here, and more than that, in the worst case scenario, Roy could keep him under control.

The fact that Roy was an animagus, however, was something Kimbley was _not_ supposed to know. Not with Roy still a month shy of seventeen and the date when he'd be allowed to be a legal animagus.

So was that Kimbley's plan, then? Something that hinged on Roy being a defenseless human stuck with a werewolf about to go full wolf? If that was the case, then Kimbley certainly wouldn't be sticking around to see the carnage- all they'd have to do was bluff until he backed away, then Roy could transform...

Kimbley, meanwhile, was still backing up the hill, almost back over it now, and had not said anything further than that. He lingered there for a few moments, just looking down at them while Maes held Roy by the shoulder and Roy kept his arms stretched out protectively, like even on his knees and injured he'd still throw himself into a fist fight if it kept Kimbley away from him. He just stood there on the top of the hill, leaning against one of the nearby trees and smiling, letting the uncomfortable silence persist longer and longer.

Then, he raised his voice up to a yell, and said two words just before that pale shadow of a man withdrew back behind the trees, and vanished from their view for good.

_"Status Homenum."_

And he was gone.

Maes frowned uncertainly, staring back up into the shadows with an unsettling weight hanging over his shoulders and his hands cold and shaking. "...what?" he murmured, more confused than anything else, then suddenly jumped, realizing he could look back to Roy at last. "Roy- Roy, are you okay?! Did he hurt you?! Roy-"

But his best friend was not looking at him.

Roy stared back up the hill after their tormentor as well, but he was silent and suddenly pale like sour milk, the only hint of color on his face the thin scratch of a tree branch along his cheek. His lips moved silently, forming the spell that Kimbley had just said, eyes distant and haunted- and Maes' alarm grew.

"Hey, Roy, talk to me- what is it? Are you okay?" He shook his shoulder again, staring into his face desperately, but Roy was not listening to him. "Roy, what is it...?"

_"Status... Homenum..."_

"Roy, what-"

Roy abruptly jerked away, pushing off Maes' hand like it had burned him and standing. To Maes' eyes, that was all he did, just stand here for a second, then two- but then he suddenly stamped a foot in frustration, cursing under his breath. "No, no..." his friend murmured, " _work,_ damn you..."

"...Roy?" Maes asked worriedly again. "What's the matter?" He shifted uncomfortably on the ground, decidedly _not_ looking down to his injured leg so he wouldn't have to see if it was bent the wrong way.

Roy muttered something under his breath and withdrew his wand, slashing it through the air in a violent arc so fast Maes almost flinched. Nothing happened. No flash or spark of light, no crack of sound... nothing.

What was he _doing?_

 _"Roy,"_ Maes pressed harder. He couldn't stand, not again, so he miserably had to settle for tugging on his friend's robes like a lost child. "Roy, answer me! What is it?!"

And finally, that tug got his friend to turn around. Paler than before and with eyes huge and hollow like caves, limp with silent shock, and it took a second well-aimed tug from Maes to maneuver his friend into finally dropping to sit down, face slack with shock. "Roy, _talk to me,"_ he ordered, one hand sliding up to palm his cheek and then the other, holding his face there and not allowing him to look anywhere but at him.

Roy blinked several times, just staring at him wordlessly. Then, with a stuttering breath, he took Maes' hands by the wrists and lowered them, staring past him rather than at him, then staring to his lap while still avoiding look at him. _"Status Homenum,"_ he repeated numbly. "It's a spell that prevents an animagus from transforming to his or her animal form. And... I can't transform, Maes. I just tried. I can't do it."

"You... you what?" He started to reach forwards, trying to get his pale friend to look at him, but to no avail. "W-what do you mean you can't do it?"

"I- I _can't."_ He let Maes hold onto his arm, this time, but just kept on staring, blinking and horrified and all but speechless. When he finally managed to root his gaze back on Maes he was still so pale and stunned he all but expected his friend to be about to faint. "It must've been one of the spells he hit with me when I was coming to you... I _can't_ transform, I _tried."_

His voice was suddenly edging with panic and Maes, his own alarm starting to rise, found himself grasping his hand tighter, trying to calm him down because they were in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and Maes was hurt and Roy was abruptly hexed and now- god, now they did not have time for either one of them to fall apart. "There's no way it's permanent, right? How do you negate it- _Finite Incantatem!"_ he snapped, tapping Roy with his wand, but his friend did not react in a way that was encouraging.

Slowly, still blinking, Roy sank back onto his heels. He shook his head one miserable time. "I don't know how. I only know about it at all because Professor McGonagall mentioned it to me one night, but... but it's not a practical spell, Maes, nobody ever _uses_ it in a duel when we're so rare to begin with- I didn't ask her anything more about it, I don't know how to reverse it- I can't transform, Maes! I can't!"

Maes stared at his best friend, his alarm abruptly rising worse than before, stomach twisting. At first all he really understood was that Kimbley had cursed Roy, stopping him from transforming, and that was it, and _that_ was bad enough, because Kimbley had done something they didn't understand to Roy and that was _bad-_

But then, he managed to bring himself past that, and realize the true scope of what Kimbley had just done.

He stared at Roy for one speechless, horrified moment, the blood draining from his face to leave him just as pale as his friend. Then, like it was being pulled by a magnet, his gaze was sucked down to his watch, just a second before Roy grabbed and pulled on his arm so he could see the time for himself.

"Thirty-four minutes," Maes choked out, the horror of it clawing at his throat until he could barely speak. "I transform at six tonight. It's 5:26 now."

Five years as a werewolf, and Maes had gotten very good at mental math. Specifically, at memorizing the time the moon rose, and keeping a very good track of the time in his head. He'd also gotten very good at tracing his steps, to always absolutely ensure that no matter where he was on a day of his transformation, he had enough time to make it to his safe space before the moon reached the skies.

So he knew that it had taken them just under an hour to get this far into the forest. Just under an hour, while moving very quickly, and they'd done very little backtracking. To run straight back to the castle from here would take almost as long, possibly longer than Maes had left.

And he couldn't run.

He knew, even before he finally tilted his head down at last to look at his leg, that he could not run, and when he finally saw the state of his limb, it was confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt: _he could not run._

Roy was trying to touch it already, gently shifting his robes out of the way but balking at rolling his pants leg back, flinching away at just the unnatural way his leg looked on the ground, and Maes was _thankful_ for it, because in that moment every fiber of his being screamed out at the thought of being touched there. "The spell Kimbley hit you with..." Roy stammered, voice low and anxious, "did you hear what it was? What color was it?"

Maes swallowed hard, staring down at his leg rather than at Roy because he didn't want to see the concerned look grow even worse in his eyes. "I... blue," he murmured hoarsely, squinting as he thought back. "It was blue. He didn't say the incantation aloud."

Roy tensed quietly, hand still drifting nervously over his leg. "... _Reducto,"_ he said softly, not an incantation but a statement at what had been done. Another moment passed in uncertain silence before his best friend cautiously looked up to meet his gaze. The apology was there in his stricken eyes, no need for it to be voiced aloud, but Roy gave it words anyway. "I'm sorry, Maes, he shattered it. I can't fix it."

Maes hadn't expected anything better or anything worse, and if the words made his stomach drop like a rock, he ignored it, because they didn't have the time for him to waste on it. "It'll be fine. Madam Pomfrey'll fix it, she can fix anything."

"...but..."

Maes pushed Roy's hand away, refusing to let him linger anymore. "Listen to me," he said, grabbing his friend by the shoulder, "it's fine, I'll be fine- you have to get back to the castle, Roy. Don't worry about me."

His friend's brow furrowed again, concern and confusion flickering through his dark eyes. "Back to Hogwarts? Maes, we can't risk that- if we don't make it in time you'll be transforming right on the grounds. That's too close to the school, that's-"

"I said you had to get back to the castle." Maes stopped, swallowing hard at the words that had to come next, staring at Roy, trying to get him to understand without saying it, wanting him to just understand- but his friend just kept staring at him without comprehension, because he didn't _want_ to get it... and Maes was left with no choice.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, he quieted the misery collecting in his chest, and he tried again.

"I said you had to get back to Hogwarts," he said. "I didn't say I was coming with you."

There was an awkward, uncertain moment of silence. Roy blinked silently at him, pale and scratched face blank, stricken and quiet and just looking at him, motionless in the middle of a moment of such urgency it was nauseating.

And then, his face washing over with a cold wave of horror, his best friend at least understood.

"...No, Maes."

Maes shook his head, pushing his friend back again and this time, it was as hard as he could. "You have to. There's no other-"

"I said _no,_ Maes!" Roy snarled- and wasn't that a horrifying ironic twist, _Roy_ being the one to snarl at him. "I am not leaving you behind! You're injured, for Merlin's sake, I-"

"You have to! I'll be _fine,_ I can defend myself, but you have to tell someone about this, Roy, you've got to get back as soon as you can- what about Catherine and Augustus? The _real_ one?" Maes saw weakness then and he pounced, in too much pain to move closer without just crawling but at least able to grab for Roy's hand, pulling it in and squeezing it as hard as he could. "You have to get back and tell McGonagall, Flitwick, _somebody_ what happened. Someone has to look for them. Hell, someone has to look for _Kimbley,_ we can't let him get away with this! Someone has to, it can't be me- you're the only one, Roy! You can't even stay here, not if you can't transform, it won't be safe- go back to Hogwarts, you'll be able to get help for me there-"

"And what?! Just leave you behind in the meantime?!"

 _"Yes!"_ Maes cried, tugging on his hand desperately again. "Believe it or not, Roy, I'm no _you,_ but I think I'm a good enough wizard to stall out here until you get back-"

"You won't be a wizard in just a few minutes, Maes, you'll be a fucking _werewolf!"_

Maes, mouth still open to continue arguing back, felt the words catch in his throat again. He flinched back, still shivering with the pain of it, abruptly unable to still look his friend in the eyes.

Roy's yell of a proclamation echoed distantly around the dark clearing, stricken with hot anger and so fierce it nearly made him pull even further away. It rang in his ears and curled around him like a snake, squeeing and making his heart shudder in time with the violent throbs of his leg, and yet again, nausea started to rise in his mouth.

And that was the heart of the matter, wasn't it? The heart that Maes had been trying so hard to avoid admitting to.

He could, certainly, sit here and defend himself for as long as he had to. They were pretty far into the forest at this point, beyond the borders of safety, but Maes was not a helpless child. He had his wand and could defend himself until Roy got a professor or two out here. Roy, meanwhile, _had_ to get back to school. He'd been cursed- Maes' blood boiled again, Roy's earlier screams ringing in his ears and contorting his spin; he'd been _tortured,_ Kimbley, that fucking _monster..._ but- but that was the point! Roy could be hurt in ways that neither of them could see. Roy _had_ to get back, for himself, for the poor first years that Kimbley had attacked. Roy could not stay out here.

But that whole little plan hinged on one fact: Maes being able to defend himself.

And after a consistently shrinking few minutes were dead and gone, that would no longer be true.

And of course, if this were anyone but Roy, that wouldn't matter. But Roy had to be the most overprotective, ever watchful, always concerned, most _loyal_ friend a guy could have, so Roy knew just as much about werewolves as Maes did, and would not be fooled no matter how he tried to spin this.

Roy knew that a werewolf was friend to nobody- not even the creatures that lived in the Forbidden Forest. Roy knew that he would be attacked on sight.

And Roy knew that he would not have the sound mind or magic with which to defend himself with.

"...Roy," Maes started weakly again, turning a gaze as absolutely confident as he could force it onto his friend- but the Slytherin was already staring at him with a look of such sureness, something almost close to disgust, that he shut his mouth again before he got out any more than that.

This, he realized, at long and horrible last, had been Kimbley's plan all along.

Lead them so far into the Forbidden Forest that Maes would not have enough time to make it back to the castle in time, so that any attempt to race back to Hogwarts would only put so many others in danger if he transformed on the grounds, before he could reach the Shrieking Shack. Curse Roy into being unable to transform. Injure one or the both of them.

Roy _could not_ stay with here him, because if he couldn't transform, he'd wind up absolutely helpless. Maes could _not_ accompany him back to the castle, because the risk was just too great if they did not make it in time. Roy had to go back himself, while Maes stayed here and...

And probably...

He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head with a shudder. He couldn't think about that now. No. No, no, he could _not._ His focus had to be on Roy because-

Because time was running out.

Fast.

"Roy," he tried again, one last time, because he _had_ to give it at least one more go. "Roy. You can make it. Run back to the castle and get help. You'll get back in time, I'm sure of it, you-"

"And if I don't?" his friend cut in harshly, eyes blazing. "If I don't get back in time?"

Maes clenched his fists, staring wordlessly down at the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing the lie he was supposed to tell, knowing he wasn't able to get it out.

His best friend yanked away from him to push to his feet, turning his back on him to pace away and stand there trembling, an angry and torn sight that Maes could barely bring himself to behold. He looked like a mess. His robes were torn, one gash in particular stretching from his arm to his spine to expose and dirty the shirt underneath, his hair a mess of twigs that hid just how pale he was, how pale he'd been ever since Kimbley had hit him with an Unforgivable. He looked furious. Tense and angry, back stiff and fisted hands trembling by his sides, trembling like instead of Kimbley, _Maes_ was the one he wanted to punch.

Somehow, looking up to Roy's back and seeing him like that, he already knew what his best friend's answer was going to be.

Roy was quiet for several seconds, breaths heavy and uneven, stuttering in the otherwise oppressive silence. He stood there and wouldn't look at Maes, and Maes could barely bring himself to look at him, because none of it mattered.

He already knew Roy's answer, and he was never going to be able to change it.

"...I'm not leaving you here to die, Maes. I- ... _I'm not leaving you here to die!"_

Maes' throat tightened even worse, a lump forming that he could not swallow. He shrunk back instead of leaning towards the words that were supposed to be a promise of loyalty, a reassurance of safety, because as much as they were that for him they were the exact opposite for Roy. His stomach flipped nauseatingly again, an anxious sort of twist that almost made him want to throw up.

The first option, the one that Roy would refuse until he was blue in the face, was Roy fleeing back to the castle and leaving him here.

The second was the only other choice they had.

Roy would stay with him until morning to keep him safe.

And risk his own life in the process.

Maes sat limply on the ground then, stomach still knotting and lump still in his throat as misery flooded through his every limb. He stared at his best friend's back, warring with himself for the words, to quiet the guilt enough to speak, but for several moments was too helpless and anguished to even try.

Finally, fighting to clear his throat and yet only succeeding in making his voice so shaky Roy could surely hear its crack, he choked out, "I'd hug you if I could stand up."

Roy shuddered violently again, so violently from head to toe it looked almost as if he was falling apart. He remained with his back to Maes, standing there with his fists clenched, his head bowed, rage still trembling and emanating from him like a broken hourglass spilling with sand. There was silence at first, a miserable silence; then his best friend abruptly whirled back around to drop to his knees, hands jerking out to hold Maes by the shoulders with the most peculiar expression on his face, eyes stricken and lower lip trembling and entirely too emotional for words. Then he yanked him to him, wrapping his arms around him in a bone-crushing, desperate sort of hug, so tight and hard it hurt, almost as much as it hurt to hear the gasped sort of agonized whimper, right by his ear.

It was also too much for Maes to bear. Not now. Now when Roy was about to risk his life for him. He couldn't look at him and see his _friend_ staring back, see someone he cared about so much and know what he was about to go through.

So he didn't.

Maes tore his eyes away from Roy, staring hard to the ground and fighting the rest of the cowardly urge to close his eyes and hold his hands over his ears. "If... if we're going to do this, we have to do it right." He swallowed hard again, almost coughing to get it past the lump still sitting there in the middle of his throat. "Restrain me, Roy."

Predictably, these words made Roy recoil like Maes had just burned him.

"W-what?! I- no, Maes, I won't-"

"You knew you'd have to from the moment you decided to stay."

"But-" he stammered desperately, the words stumbling over each other as he fought for some way to disagree with him, any way he could think of to fight him over this. "B-but we still have time, we don't have to- not right now, I-"

"And I'm not going to let you risk me being wrong about how many minutes I have left. Either you restrain me right now or I'll do it."

His best friend flinched again, a sort of dark revulsion shuddering through his eyes- but it was a revulsion colored with defeat. Roy knew he was right, just as he'd known he was right all along.

There was no choice left for them here, because Kimbley had already made all the choices for them.

Slowly, shakily, Roy withdrew his wand again. He raised it, lowered it, raised it again, then faltered, nervous gaze flickering from Maes down to his leg as if desperate for the distraction. "Will you be okay? Like this, I mean? Can you transform, or...?"

Maes again found himself stammering into silence, his stomach lurching as he stared down to his leg. His robes and pants hid the injury from view, but the throbbing pain had not lessened, and he still did not dare to move his clothes aside to take in the extent of the damage. He almost felt the blood start to drain from his face.

He'd broken a lot of limbs as a werewolf, before Roy had learned how to be an animagus.

This felt a lot like that.

"...Well, I'll transform, whether it's healthy or not," Maes managed hoarsely, fists clenching again. "Whether or not I'll be okay is another question, but- I don't see how we can change the outcome of this now."

Roy's frown creased deeper and he glared at Maes' leg, eyes narrowing at it like it was what had created this catastrophe and not Kimbley. His hand twitched over his wand again, like he wished he could try to heal it, but Roy was a disaster at Charms and even if he wasn't Maes wouldn't have let anybody but a trained Healer near what Kimbley had done to his leg.

It was broken either way, he was going to transform with it like that no matter what, and... and it was probably going to hurt like hell.

All he could hope for was still being able to walk- hobble... be carried by Roy, most likely... when the sun rose. Beyond that, there was nothing more they could do, and Maes didn't want to think about it, because the more he worried about how much the transformation was going to _hurt_ the more his stomach knotted so angrily it felt like he was going to throw up.

There wasn't long left, now.

Roy was quiet for a few moments, frown still on his face as he watched him, wand wavering in the air. He looked him over for a heartbeat, brow furrowing, then took in a deep, shuddering sort of breath. The tip of his wand glowed.

And then, slowly, bit my bit, cold bar by cold bar, a cage formed around him.

It was ice cold and cramped, probably as big as Roy could make it under the circumstances but not big enough for a grown man who was about to become a grown wolf. The metal formed out of nothing until suddenly there was pressure at Maes' neck, forcing him to bow his head to fit, and then there were bars that shoved his good leg back, and then-

_"AH! AH, AH- oh god- OW-"_

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so- I'm-"

 _"Hah..."_ Maes gasped through clenched teeth, vision blurring out with black spots as he panted so hard he felt like he was going to be sick. The one inch, god, not even that of forced movement to his leg and suddenly he couldn't see, could barely think; suddenly the world had turned and his face was on the floor of the metal cage, cold burning into his cheek, and he clutched at himself as he cried out and Roy apologized over and over, but the pain refused to dissipate and the cage just kept forming.

Even when it had stopped- even when it was finally over- the pain stayed. And so did Roy's hand on the side of his face, shaking and apologetic but _there,_ there with him through it all, until he could finally breathe again.

Maes sucked in a stuttering gasp through chattering teeth. He bucked and almost choked, a moan clawing its way right up his throat no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

He couldn't do this. Oh, god. He was hurt and about to go through the transformation that was already so harrowing, so _hard,_ and now half of him was already broken and he- he _couldn't_ do this. It was going to hurt so much, so _bad,_ and even if he lost his sanity with the full moon he'd still feel it. He'd feel every bit of it and he'd remember it in the morning. He was going to wake up when the moon set and hurt even worse than this, because he was going to spend the whole night biting himself and throwing himself against the bars, like the _monster_ he was- oh, god, he was so _scared..._

All the bravado he'd cobbled together to put on a brave face for Roy evaporated in an instant. He whimpered desperately, pressing his face up into his friend's hand because he just couldn't help himself, leaning into the pressure of it for the only anchor he could grab.

Roy made a small noise in the back of his throat, his hand trembling and almost as cold as the metal underneath him. "We'll-" he tried, then stopped, a crack wavering through his voice, then tried again. "We'll get through this. You'll be fine. I'm not going anywhere, I'll be here the whole time and when the sun rises we'll get out of here. I promise, Maes."

Maes shook his head weakly, this time pressing his cheek to the metal instead of Roy's hand. There was so much that he wanted to say, so much that he had the words for and then, somehow, even more that he did not. He just lay there and shivered and all the while, Roy kept talking to him, and Maes had no choice but to listen.

"...I'm sorry, Maes," Roy mumbled at some point, the words thick and weak. "I- I promised you you'd never have to spend another night in a cage again. I... _I..."_

Maes shook his head a second time. It wasn't Roy's fault that promise was broken. It wasn't Roy's fault and Maes would never blame him for it and he'd survived it so many times before, but his throat was spasming now and he couldn't speak and he didn't want to try.

There wasn't much time left, now .

It got darker.

He felt worse.

He felt a lot worse.

He felt worse even as his best friend talked himself into silence and yet still sat by his side. He felt colder and weaker and the pain grew and grew. He felt...

"R- Roy," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. "Promise me. If this... d-doesn't work... if I get free..."

Roy stiffened. He stiffened so violently the hand on his face nearly slapped him. "Maes-"

"Promise me-"

_Oh. Oh, fuck. Shit. No, no-_

"Roy," he choked out again, with a whole new level of urgency. He grabbed for his wand, all but throwing it through the bars and jerking away from his friend as hard as he could. "Roy, it's starting, it's- get back-"

Roy sucked in a quiet breath, suddenly already scrambling backwards on his hands like Maes had just hit him with an electric jolt of energy. He withdrew so fast Maes barely had time to panic before he was gone, but it didn't matter, because his own terror was still rising, leg throbbing worse and worse, breaths choked shorter and shorter and _shorter_ until he couldn't breathe at all. He felt parts of him starting to change, his spine curling, his ribs creaking longer, his jaw shattering out of place-

The last thing that Maes saw that night was Roy's face: pale, terrified, and staring straight at him.

Then, nothing.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments/kudos! Hopefully I'll see you on Friday! :D

Roy covered his ears with his hands for a long time.

It did very little to block out the screams.

He turned his back so he wouldn't have to look. He'd seen the transformation before, and knew it was as horrifying as he could stomach to watch it happen to his best friend, and nearly beyond anything he could stomach now. He'd heard the transformation before, too; the gasps and the moans and the tearing of bone and muscle as his body ripped itself apart.

That was all nothing compared to the screams now.

Roy could've silenced Maes. He could've turned around and laid the same silencing charm on him that Kimbley had sent towards both of them just earlier that night. He could've shut up the whimpers, the whines, the _howls_ of agony of a- a _beast_ in pain, because that was what he was now, a beast that could be soothed by no rhyme or reason, by nothing at all except human flesh. He could've taken out his wand for just one moment and been done with it.

And he couldn't make himself do it.

Maes had been forcibly reduced to nothing more than a beast right now but he was still _there._ A werewolf wasn't half human, half wolf, with the human part put to bed once a month for the wolf to come out to play. That was _Maes_ that was in pain, sane or not, and when the morning came he'd remember every last bit of this night and every last bit of this pain.

The least Roy could do for him was not gag him into silence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, words that fell deaf underneath the howls and even deafer as he pressed his hands over his ears as hard as he could. " _I'm sorry, I"m sorry, I'm sorry, Maes."_

And Maes screamed on.

Or- howled.

Because he wasn't human anymore tonight.

Roy shuffled away just a little further, maneuvering himself over the knotted roots on his knees alone to move for Maes' wand. The wand Maes had thrown to him rather than risk clawing it apart, because he'd trusted Roy to keep it safe for him until morning.

Keep it safe.

_Keep him safe._

After all the promises he'd made his best friend over the years here- all the times he'd promised to keep him safe- all the times Maes had made the same promise to him and actually _kept_ that promise...

Roy laughed bitterly, and again it was so choked and quiet underneath his hands and his best friend's screams he didn't hear it at all.

He was going to kill Kimbley. He was going to drag his friend out of this hell forest come hell or high water, and then he was going to turn right around and hunt down that psychopath across the whole damn world if he had to, and then he was going to do to him what he had tried to do to Maes tonight.

God damn it, he was abruptly so fucking _angry_ he could barely even think.

Kimbley- _Kimbley..._

His hands shook, fingers digging into his hair so harshly he nearly tugged it out of his skull, and for just a moment, he let out a whimper of his own, buried right into his knees.

Finally, the earsplitting howls died out.

Roy remained crouched there in the cold, too long grass, leaned shakily against a tree and trembling so hard he hurt from head to toe. He kept his hands clutched desperately over his ears for another long few dragging moments, because he did not want to hear his best friend in pain again, he _could not._

But at last, he couldn't stand it for any longer. Because this was going to be one very long night, and it was going to feel a hell of a lot longer- and even more needlessly dangerous- if he tried to spend the whole of it crouched here and blocking out the rest of the world because he didn't want to bear it.

He took a deep breath, and then, he lowered his hands.

...

Well, the agonized howls had stopped, at least.

He still held painfully motionless, even as his ankles started to ache and his back began to protest. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to so much as look at the low, angry growls issuing across the clearing, the faint screeches of claws against metal, the guttural noises of an animal. He heard it all and he didn't want to see it.

But he was in this for the long haul. He had promised to guard Maes with his life tonight.

He couldn't do that sitting here on his knees, crouched blind and deaf, and willfully ignoring the very werewolf that he had sworn to protect.

So, with yet another deep, trembling breath, Roy forced himself to unfurl, inch by inch, leaned himself back against the rough bark of a tree- then dragged his gaze up off his knees to look to his best friend.

His best friend that was no longer human.

An angry, dark brown wolf snarled at him from the middle of the clearing. It was huge, easily the size of a man, cramped and barely able to fit in the cage that Roy had been too strained and stressed to manage to make any bigger; much smaller and it might have broken his neck then and there. It was injured, one leg splayed on the floor of the cage and- oh, god, that was blood. That was blood, already matting his fur together, blood that had to be from bits of shattered bone tearing through his flesh. And... and it was _angry_ , teeth bared and wild as he threw himself against the bars, clawing through them and pressing himself against them over and over and over, feral, bloodshot eyes trained right onto him.

His feral, bloodshot, _green_ eyes.

Roy's stomach lurched miserably, and a whine that was disturbingly similar to the werewolf just a dozen feet away from him pulled itself out of his throat.

There... there, on the ground, just near his foot- paw-...

A cracked and broken pair of glasses.

He groaned weakly again, a wave of misery washing over him, and suddenly found himself dropping back against the tree in such fatigue he barely kept himself upright.

"...Sorry, Maes," he mumbled, far too low for the wolf to have heard him underneath his own growls. "Guess I should've taken your glasses along with your wand, huh? What are we gonna do tomorrow morning? I can't help you walk if you're busy trying not to trip over your own feet."

The werewolf let out another inhuman cry, scratching a paw desperately out through the bars over and over again, it took everything Roy had for his miserable smile not to falter.

This was going to be a long, terrible night.

* * *

For a long while, the only sounds in that night were the howls and screeches of his transformed best friend, and the ticking of his watch, consistently turning on by his ear.

Roy's internal clock was far from as stringent as Maes', but he'd done a pretty good job at memorizing when the moon was supposed to rise and set with every full one, and he'd taken to wearing a watch ever since he'd learned he was best friends with a werewolf. This time of year, just before the summer solstice, was the easiest for Maes- they only had to survive for just over ten hours before the sun rose and the transformation was reversed.

They were goddammed lucky Kimbley hadn't gotten this idea during winter.

But as it was- as it was, here they were. A little bit past eight, now, and settled in with nothing to do but wait until six in the morning.

And Roy could do exactly nothing at all anymore but wait. Wait, and hope that the cage he'd formed would hold.

He bit his lip anxiously, unable to stop his mind from wandering- and honestly a little grateful for it, because any distraction he could grasp was a godsend to block out the agonized whimpers and whines of his best friend. Maes didn't like to talk about how it had been in the past, the cages his mother had had to use to keep him contained, and Roy had never been able to ask him about it. Roy didn't know how often they had failed and been torn apart, but could only figure they were as sturdy and reliable a choice as any other, if the Ministry had kept using them.

Ignoring the fact that a thirteen year old werewolf was nothing compared to the full grown one on his hands now...

Discounting the reality that a Ministry specialist in the containment of magical creatures who'd had all the time in the world could probably run circles around Roy in this matter, who'd scrambled to do it on the fly, while injured himself and shaken and in the middle of the night...

Roy shuddered again, staring hopelessly down to the roots beneath his feet, and determined that this distraction wasn't so good after all.

There just wasn't all that much for him to _do,_ at this point. He'd tried sending up red sparks with his wand a little while before, but the forest was so thick and the trees were so tall he'd had to just watch them dissipate before barely getting any visibility- and there was no guarantee anybody at Hogwarts was even looking this way to see them at all. He'd given a half-hearted summoning spell for a broomstick, but not been surprised when this yielded nothing; Roy did not own a broomstick of his own, and all of the school's were under lock and key.

There'd gone his plan to try and fly back for help then fly straight back to his side.

He'd also considered trying to levitate the cage and start trying to walk back to the castle, but had discounted _this_ plan almost in the same moment he'd thought it up; if Maes was upset now, he'd _lose it_ if Roy tried to move him. While in the dark, while lost, while in pain, while fumbling over uneven ground, while desperately trying to keep enough distance between them that Maes couldn't scratch him?

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

And beyond all of that, there was just no other choice left for him.

There was _nothing_ that he could do.

Slowly, tremulously, Roy began to look over himself, still doing everything he could to avoid looking at Maes. He'd dressed for a day of classes, not a night in the forest, and it showed; his robes had already been torn by so many sharp branches he was going to have to just throw them away. He was starting to sorely wish he'd picked up his scarf that morning; it hadn't been that cold when he'd stepped out of the castle but now, over an hour after he'd trekked deeper and deeper into this hell forest, and he was miserable, and sooner or later he was going to start shivering in the middle of June...

Another angry howl ripped through the air and Roy jumped, flinching around to stare at the caged wolf and his musings stuttered to a halt. This time Maes was dragging claws along the ground, deep furrows already scratched through the mud as he growled and snarled, and even from across the clearing Roy could see the teeth marks in the bars. _Fuck,_ Maes was trying to chew his was out through solid steel!

Roy was on his feet before he'd even realized it, pulling away and with his wand out but no spell on his lips, because there was no magic that could ever fix this. "Damn it, Maes..." he muttered, backpedaling further, "just- just _stop_ -"

He tried transforming again, a desperate reach towards the magic he'd spent so long mastering, but it hit a solid rock wall just like before. Just _wham,_ right into an obstruction that he could not break, and suddenly there was so much frustration and rage in him that the next time Maes howled, Roy screamed out right along with him.

_Damn you, Kimbley, damn you, Kimbley_

_"DAMN YOU, KIMBLEY!"_

There was an unsettling rustle in the forest around them, creatures unseen in the shadows scattering at the wounded werewolf's cry and Roy's howl along with it, leaves whispering, and he curled his fist so tightly against the tree the bark drew blood.

He stood there, hunched over and breathing hard, every bit of him aching and on pins and needles the way he'd been since Kimbley had hit him with the Cruciatus Curse. He hurt and was exhausted and so fucking _angry_ he could tear the psychopath apart, and for a sudden moment all Roy wanted to do was scream again.

And then his rising, incensed frustration was stopped in its tracks by a mighty _thump._

At first, there was barely anything to even focus on. With Maes constantly howling, with all the creatures hidden in the forest around them, this night had hardly been quiet, and that heavy, muted boom was nothing underneath all the rustling and creaks around them. His fist started to curl again, scratching desperately against the tree.

But then it happened again. A steady, eerily loud _thump._

Roy tensed. His hand curled just a little tighter, deepening the scratch through the palm of his hand, and he suddenly found himself clutching for his wand.

_Thump._

"W... what...?" he murmured to himself, a drop of cold sweat running down the back of his neck. What was this? What was going on? That- that sounded _big._ And like it was getting closer. What was-

Maes howled again. Another earsplitting, desperate, anguished noise of an animal in pain.

And Roy gasped.

_Maes..._

Oh, god.

Maes had been sitting there howling for- for almost two hours, now. Howling as loud as he could make it, so constantly he'd barely broken for air, so desperately that even without looking Roy knew it was the sound of a wounded animal. Maes might as well have just sat down and been screaming, _"I'm hurt! Come and get me! I'm hurt! I'M HURT! FREE SHOT!"_ for this entire night.

And this was even _worse_ than that, because Maes was not a human tonight.

Werewolves were friend to no creatures but themselves, and in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, nearly every creature hearing these howls tonight was listening to a dangerous- now helpless- predator suddenly dropped right down into the middle of their territory, free for the taking.

He might as well be ringing the alarm bell and blasting out a beacon that screamed their location to the world, and begged them all to come take advantage.

_Thump._

Roy paled.

Oh, fuck.

"Maes-" he stammered, whirling back around to throw himself back towards his friend, all but crawling on his hands and knees to the caged werewolf. "Maes, stop, stop, _please_ just shut up, shut up for a few minutes, buddy, I know you're scared but just be quiet for a little while-"

But Maes wasn't scared, Maes was _angry._ Maes wasn't capable of listening to him or even rational thought; he was literally out of his mind and would tear Roy apart even if it killed him.

_Thump._

Fuck, it was getting closer-

Swearing under his breath, Roy turned his wand back on his friend, all his previous misgivings stamped away in a heartbeat. "I'm sorry, Maes," he said, and then: _"Silencio!"_

The werewolf's next cry choked off into a frantic, vanishing whine, and then that one evaporated straight into silence. Green eyes widened in panic and the desperate batting of his paws through the bars only increased, mouth opening over and over like a miserable child's only for no sound to come out.

Roy would've apologized again, if he hadn't been so frantically relieved for the sudden quiet that was so dangerously necessary.

The spell wouldn't hold for long. The silencing charm was notoriously difficult and even less effective on magical creatures than it was on humans; sooner or later Maes would break it, just like they had against Kimbley- but if he could just keep quiet long enough to get whatever creature this was to lose interest and lumber away...

There was another thump. This one louder and closer than before. Then a second one, and then a third- this one so decidedly close by he felt the forest floor underneath him shake.

Roy's stomach flipped again.

So it was too little, too late.

"...Don't suppose you'd be willing to help me out here, h- huh, Maes?" he managed as steadily as he could make it, turning himself around to face into the trees instead, scanning the shadows desperately for the- _thing_ \- that was approaching. "I mean, you _are_ our resident Forbidden Forest specialist... want to clue a guy in as to what's that- that _big_ and lives out here? No?"

The werewolf made a small, breathless sort of whining sound again. He dragged his claws through the mud again and continued to gnaw at the bars, wild eyes focused only on Roy, and in them was not a single glimpse of anything recognizable.

Roy swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and determinedly turned his head away from the werewolf, not wishing to look at him again.

"Sorry for asking, then," he tried to joke, but couldn't even make himself smile along with it.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

God, this was a fucking travesty and Roy knew as he stared into the murky darkness of the forest, he knew even without having the slightest damn clue what could be out there, that it was about to get a dozen time worse.

The thumps were even closer now, faster, finally coalescing into the sound of some monstrous creature thundering in an approach, and now there were other sounds, too; trees splintering in its wake, the frantic rustle of smaller animals fleeing- it was closer, he could hear Maes suddenly trying to pull back, nearly silent whines growing higher as he clawed at the metal to try and escape, to run away- there was something _big,_ he could see it looming in the shadows, stomping towards them, smashing almost drunkenly through the trees-

And with a mighty, disgusting roar, there the creature was.

Towering over Roy at at least ten feet tall, and thicker and wider than him too, as big as the massive tree trunks scattered around them and humanoid only by the loosest, grossest definition. Skin a sickly green even under the shrouded half-light of the moon, half of it covered with an almost moss like fur, like some sort of swamp monster growing an unhealthy layer of mold over its very skin. A club clutched in a _massive_ hand, a fist so big it could've squeezed Roy's head to pop and but three fingers and three giant claws as long as his _arm._ A club that was no club at all, upon a second, shocked double take, but a _bone;_ a long, cracked, ugly _bone_ that was at least half as tall as Roy himself.

A troll.

That was a forest troll.

Roy's stomach dropped, and his jaw went with it, just a moment after it.

_Holy... hell..._

The troll grunted angrily again. He lifted the club, blinking blearily at it, then smashed it so hard into the nearest tree that it crumbled from the inside out, splintering downwards and apart in a shower of pulverized wood.

Then he took another lumbering, dragging step forward, and let out a second grunt that was a lot closer to a roar.

"...H-holy hell," Roy said numbly.

Maes whined miserably again.

There was another uncertain, eerie, stomach-wrenching silence.

And then the troll started to lumber yet another step forward, grunting and groaning and oriented straight for Maes like Roy was nothing more than chopped liver. Terror twisted his stomach so tightly it burned and his wand was up before he'd even had the conscious thought for it, firing the strongest stunning spell that he could straight at the monster's chest. "Get _back!"_ he shouted, finally forced into advancing, _"Stupefy! STUPEFY!"_

But trolls were resistant to magic and even more resistant to force; a spell that should've sent a human flying barely made the creature stagger, the jets of red light dissipating uselessly with little more than a loud groan garnered for his efforts. Baring his teeth, Roy advanced a step further, firing off a stunning spell for the troll's head instead. "Go on, get! _Get!_ There's nothing here for you; go!" he shouted again, to no avail even as he continued to move, this time turning the creature away from Maes, wanting nothing more than to get that thing and its giant club as far away from his defenseless best friend as possible. "Out, I said! _Out!"_

The troll grunted furiously again, trying to lift its club like a drunken teenager. For all the stunning spells hadn't knocked him out, they'd at least knocked any of the little sense or stability it had ever had out of its head, but Roy was no less on edge as he continued to lead him away, hands clammy and legs trembling with every step.

All that thing had to do to kill them was fall over on them.

Finally the troll managed an uncoordinated swipe of its club, too far back to have even touched Roy but collision into the ground so heavy it nearly upended him onto his knees. Maes scratched and whined desperately again, miserably trying to pull way, but Roy was left with no recourse but to just continue to back away, wanting that _thing_ nowhere but as far away from his best friend as he could get.

"Come on!" he cried, moving another step back, closer to the trees, "Follow me, you dammed brute- that's it, follow _me...!"_

The troll grunted furiously again, rubbing his head. He stared at Roy, thumping his club against the ground in a disjointed, uneven rhythm.

Then, with an angry sort of snarl, the troll turned away from him, and started stumbling towards Maes.

Roy's heart all but stopped.

"No- _no! Stop! This way!_ M-Maes- _Stupefy! Stupefy!"_

But the spells were just slowing him down, they weren't enough to bring him to a stop; he kept lumbering forward, waving his club, and Maes was obviously _terrified,_ scrambling to the back of the cage with a high-pitched, desperate, almost whine- "Oh, god," he moaned, he couldn't stop it, he couldn't-

Damn it, if stunning spells weren't enough...

The troll stumbled to a halt before the cage. Another spell, this one the reducto curse, was all but brushed off as if nothing more than a fly. He raised the giant bone of a club overhead.

Maes _screamed._

_"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

And just as the monster started to swing his arm down, the club was sent flying.

It crashed into a tree so hard yet another trunk started to crumple and fall, and Roy gulped.

The troll blinked stupidly at his giant hand. He looked back over to where his club lay abandoned, some twenty feet away; Roy took aim for it immediately and prepared to destroy it if necessary. Maes whined miserably again.

And then, as if _finally,_ after being peppered with spell after spell and having its own weapon blown out of its hands, now _finally_ remembering at last that it wasn't just him and the werewolf, the troll turned for Roy again.

Oh, hell.

Roy took a cautious step backwards first, for a fleeting moment just relieved to be able to get him away from Maes. But then the troll started after him and was twice his size and suddenly no fast Roy tried to back away, he couldn't outpace a troll.

"Stop- _Reducto! Diffindo! Get away! Reduc-_ _ **AH!"**_

The troll blinked dumbly at Roy. He glared. He lifted his giant fist up a little more.

And Roy now dangled ten feet above the ground, wand arm squished in between two fingers as thick around as a fucking tree, and shocked so badly every last vestige of breath had left his lungs to leave him speechless, numb, and _absolutely fucking terrified._

He kicked and gasped, squeezed too tight to scream, wand suddenly slipping through sweaty fingers, and the dumb troll just stared at him in continued annoyance and befuddlement. Just this unthinking, uncomprehending _confusion_ while Roy hung there limp and choking, the life steadily, _agonizingly,_ being squeezed right out of him.

He couldn't fight away- couldn't move his wand enough to aim it- couldn't even _breathe-_

The troll grunted angrily at him again. He squeezed his fist even tighter, so tight Roy choked, and started to lift his other hand up as if to go for his head.

_Confringo..._

_Confringo..._

_Confringo...!_

The first explosion went haywire, beyond where he could see it and faded underneath the pounding in his own ears. The second burst white and gold sparks in the corner of his eye, bringing him a startled roar and the fist squeezing even tighter, so tight he choked out a vanishing, silent scream. The third-

The third-

The third he _felt,_ burning through first the troll's fingers and then his own side in a searing heat, he heard in the desperate, furious roar that burst his ears even as his own breaths continued to choke him, and he saw it in his world flipping upside down, his stomach along with it, just a heartbeat before he was slammed down like a football so hard all sense of sanity blacked out and was smothered by the shock of it and the pain.

He couldn't breathe-

He couldn't fucking breathe, couldn't fucking think, everything was a sickening blur so thick he could barely see-

The troll let out a huge, earsplitting roar. It tossed its green head back and stamped its feet and screamed, what little that was left of its hand dripping blood and crushed beyond recognition by its side. Half of it was just _gone._ The troll roared miserably again, staring at the dripping, deformed stump of its arm, or perhaps he was, Roy wasn't sure, he could barely _see-_ but then, with a defeated sort of groan, turned its back, and miserably began to trudge away.

Roy blinked dizzily, a dizziness that did not dissipate no matter how limply he lay on the ground. He blinked again, vision swarming miserably with black spots, and was able to do little else but just stare after the troll's retreat, heart shuddering too hard in his chest and hands far too numb to even think of casting a spell.

It was leaving.

It was _leaving._

A numb smile stumbled across his face, bitter as he tasted blood, and slowly, achingly, he let his head fall to blink at Maes. He gasped dryly again, mouth moving as he tried to speak but nothing came out, throat raw and scraped, every inch of him dizzy and bleeding and one massive, limp _ow._ "G-good thing... you were here t-to... to see this... Maes? Otherwise no one w-would ever... b-believe..."

Maes stared at him, a new cut on his brow and fur slowly congealing together with the blood. He blinked several times, mouth pulling back into a threatening sort of snarl.

Then he threw his head back, and _howled._

Roy groaned, coughing painfully out an exhausted, gasping breath, and slumped facefirst back into the dirt.

The last thing he saw was Maes gnawing at the bars, trying desperately, once again, to throw a paw out far enough to draw his blood.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween week, everyone!
> 
> Hey! Hey you! Are you an American? Are you 18+ years old and a citizen? Have you voted yet? If not... get going!!! Your last day is November 6th, and many states' deadlines have not passed yet- if you're not registered, it may not be too late! Lots of races are neck and neck right now and every vote counts! Come onnnn, all the cool kids are doing it! Even me! And I'm a cool kid! ... right ...? 
> 
> *coughs* anywho. For a more relevant message, now- I've gotten lots of questions about what Kimbley's deal is, so here's what's going on. There is a long backstory between Roy, Maes, and Kimbley here, involving their years at Hogwarts. I know what that past is, and have two fics outlined that will go into it in detail. However, obviously, those fics didn't get finished first- this one did. I've decided not to spell it all out in an author's note here, because it's a bit spoilerific and I'd prefer for the fuller impact to be gotten whenever I finally actually write those fics- the most of what I'll say here is this: 
> 
> Kimbley bullied Roy really terribly his first year. It's actually how Maes and Roy become friends, here (as well as how the Mustgang forms). When Maes was bitten just before his third year, Kimbley also branched out to bullying him, though mostly just because Maes was friends with Roy, and Kimbley still had it out for Roy. Roy, however, eventually ends up getting the better of Kimbley, which leads to Kimbley being mega salty and simmering about it ever since... until now. 
> 
> Anywhoanywho... enjoy! :D Hopefully, I'll see you on Monday for chapter 5!

Roy Mustang was a city boy, through and through, in his heart of hearts, to the very deepest depths of his soul. Just ask Maes Hughes. He loved to laugh about that fact to anybody who would listen.

But he was also a _city boy_ who'd been born and raised in one of the only inter-species bars in all of western Europe. He met and talked to a representative of nearly every magical Being in the world, and he _loved_ it.

Magical Beasts were another realm altogether, though.

Because Madam Christmas opened her doors for vampires, werewolves, and banshees. She did not open her doors for chimerae, dragons, and dammed _trolls._

So Roy did not know the first thing about magical creatures, and he certainly wasn't helped by his decision not to take the Care of Magical Creatures class. Yet another decision Maes had latched on to lightheartedly tease him over, of course, to absolutely no end. But, in the end, this had actually slowly morphed into a borderline irrelevant decision- because while nothing could substitute for the class itself, it turned out a very good second best was a best friend in the form of Maes Hughes, who took the class, loved the subject, and would never shut up about it. Some days, even, Roy was sure he was better prepared for their next exam than some of the other students in the class.

And one of the most memorable lessons, by far, was the evening when Maes had dragged him out to where Professor Heinkel had held that day's class, and demanded that Roy tell him what he saw, because Maes hadn't been able to see the creatures for himself.

Thestrals.

It had been one of the more intensely disturbing things Roy had seen during his entire tenure at Hogwarts, no matter how eagerly Maes had been beaming and pressing him for details. A walking sort of skeleton, a smooth, black, cold flesh like a skin suit that clung so tightly to its ribs and limbs that for a moment or two he'd believed it to be a starving corpse. Although a corpse of _what,_ he hadn't been quite sure, and that been more part had been more horrifying than all the rest- part horse? Part giant bat, in its huge wings and milky, blank eyes? Part just... _wrong?_

Whatever it was, Roy hadn't been able to put his finger on it, and had wanted nothing more than to just walk right back into the castle and sit by the fire until it chased away the chill gone down his spine permanently.

Maes had, by all his incessant nagging and cajoling, gotten him to feed a treat to the thing. He'd nearly jumped out of his skin when that cold mouth had found his fingers, and no matter what Maes told him about how supposedly clever the thestrals were, how friendly they were, how dammed _peaceful_ they were- he hadn't been able to get away from the damn thing fast enough.

Nevertheless, Roy still remembered that feeling.

So when he woke up to it again, that same wet, creeping chill being licked all along his hand, he had a jolting suspicion as to what it was before he'd even fully woken up, and the creature's name was on his tongue before he'd even remembered how to fight open his eyes.

Thestral.

His heart skipped a startled beat, and he started shivering on the cold ground.

The briefest of attempts to pull his arm away from the disturbance nearly made him choke with the pain of it and he fell still again, panting and trembling and nearly getting sick all over himself. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ that hurt. _God_ that hurt, that- oh god that was wrong, that- _ow!_

He hauled in a tight breath through clenched teeth, stomach rebelling violently through the sick wave of pain. It was a miserable, desperate, unwinnable fight to keep himself calm, moaning and shivering through the abrupt agony. Ow. Ow. _**Ow...**_

His arm was almost definitely broken. The only question was how many other bones had been broken with it.

A nauseating blur of the last he remembered before being knocked out flushed through his brain, his brain that still felt like mushy soup; hitting the ground like a baseball, being bodily _thrown,_ being squeezed and grabbed and tossed around... Roy moaned again, this time barely with the strength to slump back down to the ground. God, he felt _awful._ He felt like, after what he'd been through, he deserved to feel awful for the rest of his life and do nothing but nap himself into oblivion.

There was another sound by his ear, a heavy and wet sort of breath, the sound of an animal, right in time with the very definite feel of it licking his face, and Roy gasped, world jerking violently straight into place. Right. There was a thestral just- right.

Trembling, his teeth chattering, Roy squeezed his eyes shut to try and drag in one more attempt at a calming breath. Then, as cold and shaken and all but terrified as he was, he cracked open one eye right for a face full of mud. He shivered, shuddered, and fought not to moan. He cracked open the other.

There was a terrible, renewed spike of pain through his head, even the muted dimness of the clearing nearly too much for him to leave him gasping and choking and miserable. With each breath a beat of soreness and hurt through his beaten body, nearly making his mind spin with the nauseating dizziness of it- but the urgency of this entire nightmare was more than enough to keep his head screwed on straight and his attention on track.

And there, when he finally got his blurring, spot-filling vision to clear, was a thestral.

Roy shuddered again.

It was just as disturbing as he remembered. Too close, too big, too- _wrong,_ with its huge, pupil-less white eyes and and birdlike beak, hard, pointed ears and the outline of its skull. He was in too much pain to yank away but by god he _wanted_ to, with that miserable spike of anxiety piercing straight through him from head to toe, and he wanted to even more when he felt the tip of a wing sweep over him, freezing cold and rough, and a tiny squeak of unhappiness clawed itself straight past his throat before he could stop it.

The thestral blinked at him. It licked his hand again.

God this was uncomfortable. God he hated it. _God_ he wanted that- that _thing_ away from him. _Now-_ he wanted it away from him right, right _NOW-_

Taking a deep breath, feeling almost as if his heart had stopped, Roy began to pull back. Inch by dreadful inch, as slow as he could make it, like he was trying to swat a fly and was afraid of startling it away, he moved. He'd learned his lesson about moving his arm so he just moved the rest of him instead, rolling careful millimeter by millimeter, pushing himself to slide away...

And the thestral just looked at him.

Unmoving, unblinking, and simply _standing there_ to stare at him like a statute as Roy moved himself over the cold ground.

He hurt. A lot.

His wand arm hurt. Probably broken and he didn't even have to look at it to know. His legs were moving, at least, but were sore as all hell, and after being bodied by a troll Roy wasn't so sure he was up to even standing on them. He could feel his wand poking him in the side, miserably painful as it prodded a bruise but at the same time endlessly reassuring, more important than any one of his limbs by several magnitudes, but with every prod into him it felt like a rib was broken- and he'd probably be lucky if it was just one.

But he was alive. He was bruised, battered, shaken, but in one piece, and not eaten by a thestral, and- and _alive._

There was nothing more he could ask from this hellish night other than that.

He took in another shallow, shuddering breath, struggling to take further stock of himself for a few moments, then jumped at the sudden whimper, a whimper that he knew very well because it was that of a werewolf. He yanked back in surprise, pain muffled under the fear as he grasped his wand, gaze darting frantically around the clearing because he'd been _unconscious_ and Maes had been _defenseless,_ how the _fuck_ had he forgotten about Maes, how had just turned a blind eye to his best friend, what if, what if, what if-

Roy found Maes' cage and had lunged for it already, raking his eyes over it desperately, searching all over the brown wolf inside for any new sign of injury. His hurt leg was still splayed out awkwardly, matted with more blood than before, and he seemed disheveled and exhausted, a few more bite wounds that Roy knew how to recognize as self-inflicted...

But he was okay.

Hell- he was better than Roy had ever had hope for.

A slow, fatigued sort of smile started to form, just barely pulling at his lips. The exhaustion of relief suddenly clung to him, choking around his throat like a noose, and for a moment, he was nearly too winded to breathe.

Slowly, haltingly, his shoulders began to slump back down. Soon, it took all he had not to just sag straight back to the ground.

He was okay.

They were _both_ okay.

The thestral made another small noise, not advancing, not withdrawing, just kicking a hoof gently over the dirty weeds and ground. In fact, it almost sounded happy. Slowly, as if aware of how anxious it made him when he approached, the thestral flared its wings, bowing its head, and carefully and gingerly lowered itself to the ground to sit right near Maes, as if to make itself still and non-threatening as possible.

Roy hesitated.

The creature evidently was not hostile. That much was undeniable. He and Maes were both fine, despite having lain here absolutely defenseless and at its mercy for- for how long? Rubbing his aching, dizzy head, Roy squinted at his watch. For several nearly terrifying moments, the numbers meant nothing to him, nothing at all, just a stream of nonsense that made his head hurt even worse until they blurred into non-existence, but a painful cough and as much effort as he could scrounge up rendered the blinking display into something readable again. 12:32 AM.

12:32 AM... and.. and the last time he'd checked, just before the troll had come...

_Four hours?!_

He'd been unconscious for _four hours?!_

Roy gasped hard, hand dropping to his lap in shock as he gaped around the clearing, heart suddenly skyrocketing to pound furiously in his ears and beat panic into him so fast he could barely think. Four hours?! He'd been out here for four hours?! Passed out in the middle of the Forbidden goddamn Forest, helpless, while Maes had been steadily biting himself and howling for every creature in a ten mile radius to hear- god, how had they even survived?! It had only taken an hour for Maes' constant howling to bring that earlier forest troll towards their clearing, how had nothing approached them again, how were they not _dead_ by now, how was this thestral the only one...?

Squinting hard around the dark clearing, however, after several slowly spiraling moments of horror, revealed his answer.

It _hadn't._

The thestral _hadn't_ come alone.

Because all around the clearing were scattered messes of footprints, footprints that hadn't been there before. Footprints that were certainly not human, and all different sizes and stepping all over each other, enough to tell the story of multiple _somethings_ crossing through here before, perhaps... perhaps _dozens_ of them. Roy didn't know enough about the creatures of the forest to identify them through their footprints alone and honesty didn't want to. The fact that they'd been here at all was blood-chilling enough.

But if they'd been here, why were he and Maes practically untouched? And why was the thestral the only one left behind?

Another few moments passed in confused silence. Roy grimaced painfully, lifted a trembling, bruised hand to rub at his freezing, bruised head.

Maes' eager words about the thestral herd of Hogwarts came to him again. Clever. Friendly. _Peaceful._

Slowly, with one disbelieving blink, he turned his gaze back to the waiting, calm thestral.

Maes had went on and on about how helpful and protective of the students the Hogwarts herd was. How they'd been trained to never attack a human and, indeed, trained to _protect_ them all from any danger that there was.

That it was easy for them, because humans weren't the only ones disturbed by them.

That most animals in the forest would backtrack if confronted by an aggressive thestral, so they could keep their charges safe, and that, indeed, was why Maes had loved them so much in the first place. Because after spending so long being shunned and treated just as badly as thestrals, after spending so long condemned to have no choice but to hurt himself and others,...he'd been able to understand the thestrals better than anybody else in the class.

Because they'd protect people, bloodlessly, easily, _safely,_ and that was what Maes had wanted to do, as well.

Protect people...

Roy's brow furrowed, and he stared around at the mess of footprints again.

He looked back at the thestral. Still waiting, still quiet, still watching him.

Could it be that that thestral had come here to... protect them?

 _Yes,_ he realized slowly, blinking in shock around the mess of the clearing again, from the trapped werewolf to the signs of danger all around them and then finally back to the thestral. The crouching, terrifying, eerie beast, waiting softly on the ground, white eyes unblinking, wings rustling in a silent, dangerous threat.

It hadn't come here to hurt them at all. It, like so many of the other creatures in this forest, had followed Maes' howling- to come here to keep them safe. And when the other creatures in this dammed place had followed and found them, it had s _cared them off._

Roy's stomach clenched again, this time with an almost unbearable wave of shocked gratitude. He stared back up at the thestral, warm relief flooding through him from head to toe, jaw slack, and suddenly trembling so much with the disbelief he could barely stand it. Maes continued to whimper quietly, continued to try and gnaw his way through the bars, but for one of the first times all night he was too distracted to feel the squirm of guilt and pity in his stomach after it.

"...You kept us safe, didn't you...?" he murmured past a slowly swelling lip, heart quaking again. Cautiously, again like he was approaching a skittish fly, Roy moved his hand out towards the thestral, unsure of how to approach or touch it but wanting to make the initial contact somehow, solidify this sudden new ally on his and Maes' side.

As if sensing his intentions, its nostrils flaring, the thestral lowered its head and moved a little closer, just close enough to be within reach. It made a low, welcoming sort of sound in its throat, indescribable but something that he could tell was meant to be an olive branch.

When Roy's hand touched its freezing mane, his every instinct said to shudder and pull back. He didn't allow himself to.

Maes whimpered again, softer, this time, the sound muffled by what seemed to be a mouthful of steel, but the thestral blocked his view and the shock of seeing his first friendly face after hours of this nightmare was enough to stop Roy from looking after him. He smiled weakly again, still holding his injured arm to him as he carefully stroked the creature with the other, so frantically relieved by now that he just couldn't stop shaking.

Finally. For the first time all night, something had finally gone right.

"I... thank you. You- I don't know if you can understand me... Maes would know, but he's- ...if you can, thank you." He broke off for a moment, fighting as hard as he could to steady his suddenly thick voice, struggling for a wavering smile. "Thank you so much for helping us."

The thestral continued to watch him with those strange, eerie eyes, silently intelligent in a way that was almost unsettling. Its wings flared again, and it nudged him with them, just a little, as if trying to say something.

Roy frowned uncertainly again.

Thestrals could fly. Obviously. That was probably the one bit of information he could've figured out for himself _without_ having Maes babble it at him. And they could carry at least the weight of a human. The Hogwarts herd, he remembered, had even been bred just for that purpose- he didn't know why or how but Hohenheim had wanted an alternative to broomstick travel, and he'd gotten it in his threstal herd. These thestrals were not only capable of flying human passengers, they _expected_ to.

And they were so close to Hogwarts... surely a flight wouldn't take more than ten minutes...

It took a few unsteady breaths for Roy to manage to focus enough to get himself standing, as sore and exhausted and downright broken as he already was. His ankle throbbed dangerously, more than dangerously enough for Roy to suspect a sprain or something worse, but he was able to get himself upright just enough to hobble forwards, placing another guiding sort of hand on the thestral's neck.

Sure enough, with yet another shake of its head and flare of its wings, the thestral rose, moving into place beside him, and crouched just enough to give the invitation for Roy to climb onto his back.

Roy's slow, shocked, and amazed grin slipped right into place.

And then, it broadened.

_Yes!_

_Yes!_

_YES!_

Legs trembling now, both with excitement and the strain, Roy held up his hand and moved back a few paces, staring between the thestral and Maes and thinking. Maes would wildly protest to being carried right now, so wildly it was downright insanity to try and move him like this, but if he could just...

 _"Funis,"_ he murmured, just barely twitching his wand through the motion with the injury, but it was enough. Metal took form in the air again, this time in a thick, sturdy chain, one end locking firmly about one of the bars of the cage while the other formed to lay limp on the ground. A good ten feet long, by his estimate, and sturdy enough that unless Maes got a few hours to work with it as his chew-toy, it wouldn't break.

Nodding satisfactorily, Roy sheathed his wand, hobbling forward as best he could to take the length of chain in his hand and turn his attentions back to the thestral. "All right," he began, "I know it's not quite what you're used to, but if you can just-"

The thestral abruptly balked.

It was slight, just a few small steps backwards away from his hand and a sudden, cold sort of withdrawal, wings flaring outwards again, but it was enough. Roy frowned uncertainly, glancing between the thestral and his chain, weighing it uncertainly in his hands. "Is it... do you think it's too heavy for you...?"

The thestral stared harder at him, not drawing away or answering him; Roy was left with no choice but to assume that was the answer. He returned his focus to the chain in his hand, focusing for a moment to tap it with a hovering charm, then looked back to the to the thestral, proffering the now floating, weightless chain to him. "You can lift it now, yeah? Is this better? Is this better?"

But the thestral pulled away _again,_ this time actually shaking his black, skull-like head, huffing at him in what could only be translated as a no. No? Why _no?_ He knew the thestral was capable of it; they'd been bred to carry passengers and Maes not _that_ heavy, even without the levitation charm. It obviously didn't have a problem with him, or why would it have stayed here for so long to protect him? Why would it have chased off all the other creatures that had found them while Roy had been passed out like a rock on the ground? It obviously wanted to help him!

So why wasn't it taking the best opportunity to do so?

Roy stared helplessly between the thestral and the chain in his hands, heart pounding anxiously. The thestral stayed still, just barely within Roy's reach and now well out of Maes'. Maes, trapped on the ground away from them both, howled miserably around the bar in his mouth, the bar he was still desperately chewing to try and get free from.

And the more Roy thought about it, the more his heart sunk.

The thestral had no problem carrying _him,_ sure. Because like Maes had said, they were smart. Loyal. Protective. They wanted to help- help _humans._

And none of those qualities applied to carrying a feral, furious werewolf straight back to a school full of unaware, defenseless children.

Actually, it was braindead stupid, horrifically dangerous, and an all around absolutely fucking _terrible_ idea. It was like picking up a fox from its isolated little cave and dropping it straight into the hen house. If that werewolf hadn't been _Maes,_ Roy never would've considered it in his entire life.

And if thestrals were as smart and well trained as Maes had told him...

If thestrals were truly this clever, then it was no wonder that this one, so willing when it had been just Roy getting on his back, was now balking and withdrawing at the very thought of carrying Maes back as well.

And... that was that, then.

Roy wasn't sure if he could trick the thestral into trying to carry Maes back anyway. If there was even a way to do it, Maes would know how, but Maes wasn't talking, and Roy's head still felt like it was filled with bees, buzzing furiously between his ears and every coherent line of thought slipping away through his fingers like sludge, because that was what fucking happened when a troll treated him like a rag doll. He wasn't going to be outsmarting a thestral anytime soon tonight, and as exhausted and in pain as he was, Roy wasn't even sure if he could try.

He would've dropped to the ground in a limp defeat, if it wouldn't have hurt so badly he probably would've screamed.

The thestral wasn't going to carry them back.

They were still just stuck here.

"...It's okay," he mumbled miserably at length, voice just a little too thick to disguise it for anything other than devastation. He let the chain drop and it floated there still in the air, still weightless for a flight to safety that was never going to come. "It's fine. I understand. I... thanks anyway, I guess." He tried for a weak smile, one that fell apart at the seams in a heartbeat, and patted the thestral's neck again, trying to reassure him even as Roy's strength began to fail him and he had to lower himself down before he fell. "I mean it. Thank you. I guess you didn't mean to but you kept him safe when I couldn't, so- so thank you. For what you were able to do for us."

The thestral lowered itself cautiously down by Roy's side, seeming to relax now that a flight back to Hogwarts with an angry werewolf in tow was no longer in question. He lowered his head a little, allowing Roy to keep his hand on his neck and looking at him with eyes he almost could've sworn were apologetic, and seemingly content in a way that almost turned Roy's stomach.

So _close_ to safety... the castle was just right over there- and this thestral could get them both there so quickly, so easily...! They were so damn _close_ to getting help, all the thestral had to do was just lift them up and fly, just for a few minutes, it was _right there, right right there!_ Just a hair's breadth away from safety, so close he could taste it, and- and yet-

And yet, not.

He closed his eyes, choking back a stifled, miserable sort of whine, and his head dropped down to his chest in a pathetic sort of resignation that nearly hurt even worse than his own injuries.

So close, but not close enough.

He felt the thestral nudge quietly at him again, licking a bit at his hair. Roy forced a weak smile this time, letting the animal couch a little by his side, and found himself even leaning back against it, tilting his head back to stare towards the dark, murky sky.

"Sorry, Maes," he mumbled.

The werewolf whimpered again.

Slowly, absently, he rubbed his sleeve along at his cheek. He didn't even have to look at it to know it came away wet with his own blood.

His side was burned, courtesy of his own spell. His arm was broken. A rib or two probably was as well. Innumerable small cuts and bruises that he was too tired to even try to heal. A head that still rang and felt stuffed with cotton or bees. And now, they really, really were stuck out here, because not even this thestral would take them back.

This was really, really not going to end well, was it?

Another almost sob bubbled up in his throat, frantic and scared and miserable with defeat. He blinked his eyes open again, this time staring hopelessly down at his caged, furious, all but unrecognizable best friend. "Look at this, huh?" he coughed weakly, trying again for a sure failure of a smile. "I'm letting a thestral eat my hair. Is this what you meant when you told me they were friendly, Maes? Is this really what you meant when you told me to feed him a treat- you meant my own hair, didn't you?"

The thestral licked his cheek a second time, crouching just a little lower for his freezing wing to brush around Roy. Maes, on the other hand, dragged his claws furiously through the ground, still gnawing viciously at the bars of his cage, those wild, too-familiar eyes piercing straight through Roy with all the hunger and madness of a wild beast.

Roy swallowed hard, looked right back down at his lap, and shivered.

"Well. I did make friends with one, a-and- that's all you really wanted, isn't it? You looked so stupidly happy when you watched him eating out of my hand... I don't know. I thought at the time you seemed a little jealous you couldn't see them but I could. I never really talked about it to anyone- you sound crazy, admitting you can see the omen of death horses that most everyone else swears are invisible." He chuckled weakly, then winced, pressing his hand to his chest. "A-although... I g-guess it's no crazier than being friends with the only werewolf in school, huh?"

Maes whined angrily again, and this time, the thestral growled on the tail end of it, trotting around as if to stand in between Roy and the cage. To guard him. To _protect_ him, from the caged werewolf that, even from within its confines, was still trying to reach out far enough to reach Roy.

His heart sunk miserably again.

He didn't want to need _protection_ from _Maes._

And he didn't doubt that, when Maes woke up in the morning, he was going to hate that he needed it just as much as Roy did right now.

"W-well... look on the bright side, Maes," he sighed at last, rubbing a hand over his sore cheek again. "At least we've now got a way out of here tomorrow morning, don't we? As long as you can climb up on his back... which I guess isn't a given, with your leg, but- but we'll figure something out. Okay? I promise we'll figure something out. And, a-and then, ll we've got to do is just let him fly us back to the school- maybe straight to McGonagall's off-..."

Roy stiffened. The musing, barely coherent ramble faded in his throat, drifting off into nothing, and his eyes widened.

_Wait a minute..._

_McGonagall's office...?_

The thestral could fly them straight to McGonagall.

He wouldn't fly them now, not with Maes like this- he'd already made that quite clear... as crushing of a defeat as that was. He would, apparently, fly Roy on his own, which was so far out of the question it was fucking laughable. He was _not_ leaving Maes on his own... but the fact remained that the thestral could fly them straight out of here to professors at Hogwarts.

And if the thestral could fly Roy and Maes there in the morning...

Who was to say he couldn't fly there by himself right now?

If they were as smart as Maes said, if they were as loyal as Maes had told him, if they were as clever and protective and good as Maes had ranted on and on and _on_ to him about-

Maybe Roy couldn't bring Maes to people who could help them.

But that didn't mean he couldn't bring those people to Maes.

Hope abruptly burned within him, a desperate sort of warmth that left him nearly shaking with sudden excitement as he withdrew his wand again, directing his search back around the clearing. _"Accio,"_ he ordered the moment he found his target: his book bag, abandoned at the edge of the trees, looking trampled on and dirty now but still intact, and it soared to him without hesitation, so fast it nearly thumped in the chest in a blow that probably would've made him cry out with pain.

But Roy couldn't think about that now, couldn't even think about the curious was the thestral was watching him now, head tilted, eyes blinking in confusion. Breaths trembling and measured, kept shallow for the sake of surely bruised ribs, Roy dug into his bag, grappling through books in an almost blind fervor to grab the first piece of parchment his fingers grasped and a pencil straight after it. He balanced it on a textbook and wrote before thinking, scrabbling across the page as fast as he could without even paying mind to the blood that smeared the words as he wrote.

_Find a professor_

_Injured, trapped in Forbidden Forest, need help ASAP_

_GET A PROFESSOR PLEASE IT'S NOT SAFE_

_The thestral knows where we are_

_-Roy Mustang, Maes Hughes_

He read the meager message over once, then twice, this time taking in his own blood stains and the way the paper was already crinkled and torn.

It was enough. Any professor would read Maes Hughes' name, and look straight to the lunar calendar. They'd realize enough of what had happened to know what to do.

It was _enough._

A tap of his wand rolled the parchment up into a tight scroll, promising to unroll only when it had found its way into another's hands. Still trembling with the new surge of energy, Roy then turned back to the thestral, who was already watching him with renewed interest and seemed to understand what was happening. "Yeah- yeah, you've probably had to deliver messages before, haven't you? And this one, it's really easy, okay? Just straight to Hogwarts. Professor Heinkel, or McGonagall, or-" he babbled, mind racing, "or Hoheheim if you can, but- does this make sense...? Find a professor if you can, but if you can't, that's okay, just anybody will do. Please just deliver this to someone and help them come back here. Can you do that for me?"

The thestral snorted, shaking his head vigorously to ruffle his mane, not a refusal but instead a declaration of sorts, a promise that what Roy was asking for was so easy it needn't even be worried about. He licked his hand again before kneeling to accept the parchment, allowing Roy to magically affix it to his ear without any protest.

Worst case scenario, Roy considered, even if the thestral ran into a student who couldn't see him, they'd see a a scroll of parchment seemingly floating in mid air. And if there was anything Roy had learned in seven years at Hogwarts, it was that nobody would just ignore something interesting just floating right in front of them.

The message would get to a professor.

And that professor, even if it was a prejudiced son of a bitch like Grand, would see to it that they weren't left out here for long.

Roy took a moment to stand back, examining his handiwork, then crouched down a little to give the thestral as confident a smile as he could. "Atta boy," he murmured, barely audible underneath Maes' still near constant whine, and patted the thestral's neck.

The thestral stretched again, padding back a few paces, and shook its head again. It took a deep breath.

And then, while Roy remained helplessly behind on the ground to watch, it spread its wings and took off.

He watched the whole while, heart racing anxiously as the beast began to rise, picking up speed, its huge wings beating steady and sure. With Roy's already precarious lack of balance, the sudden gusts of wind were almost enough to topple him over, but he managed to hold fast as the thestral circled the clearing once, finding its speed- and at last, turned off right into the direction of Hogwarts.

Right into the direction of Hogwarts, and right out of his sight.

And, hopefully, straight into a professor's.

It left him, once again, completely and utterly alone. But this time, he was alone... with at least the slightest sense of hope.

"...Good luck," Roy murmured, shivering in the night.

They only had to wait for a professor, now. That was all. Just one more hour, maybe two- and even if not, the thestral had kept them safe for a full four hours. That was more than Roy could've ever asked for, and it might just have been _enough._ Looking back to his best friend now, and the werewolf seemed finally worn out, _exhausted_ from injury and the hours he'd spent howling while Roy was unconscious, chewing so miserably on the same bar of the cage that he had been all night the bar that was looking to be in increasingly terrible shape but hadn't given out yet.

It seemed that he'd finally howled himself out.

No Maes howling meant no more creatures hunting down an injured werewolf to kill.

The thestral was set to bring help in as soon as possible.

And, worse come to _absolute_ worse, there was only six hours left to go.

They were going to get through this, Roy determined firmly, straightening his back with as steady a breath as he could. He and Maes were _both_ going to get through this, get back to the school safely and whole, and survive to tell the tale. They could- and _would-_ do this.

He would accept nothing less.

With another steadying nod, meant to reassure himself more than anything else, Roy carefully maneuvered himself into sitting down again, breathing hard through the pain of it and forcing himself to bear it all the same. He sent a weak smile in Maes' direction, trying not to look directly into his wild, ravenous eyes, and gently scooted himself backwards to rest against a tree.

"Don't worry, Maes, " he promised steadily. "He'll bring back some help for us both right away. We'll get through this; all you've gotta do is just hang in there for just a little while longer, okay?" He paused for a moment, gaze still hovering somewhere around Maes' shoulder, then grinned weakly again. "Hey, did you even see him? There was a thestral here, Maes, just a moment ago- if you can't see them normally I don't know why you'd be able to see them like this... did you just watch something invisible licking away at my face? Is that what it looked like to you? ...w-well... I guess that's... not important now. I- _point_ is, he's bringing help back for us. We'll be back at Hogwarts before you know it, okay, Maes? We'll be back there, and you'll be okay, we'll _both_ be okay, and safe, you'll see, a-and... I promise, Maes."

Maes whined, ears twitching, eyes miserable and bloodshot now. There was another faint screech of teeth on metal; a slight slip of his jaw and Roy shuddered to see just how mangled the bar Maes was working on had become. God, that was solid steel, and Maes had nearly worn straight through the damn thing. For a moment he even considered trying to strengthen it again, but then grimaced and shook his head. To get close to Maes now, especially in his current, unsteady, weakened condition, was asking for trouble. Not to mention he'd have to dislodge Maes' mouth from it to reform the bar, and pulling something free from a werewolf's jaws was probably one of the most foolhardy things a human could do.

He'd have to leave it alone, for now.

Just leave it alone, and wait for help to get here.

After a moment of thought, Roy cast an Intruder Charm around the area, again just barely managing to twitch his wand through the motion because god, this _hurt._ It'd work on most of the bigger creatures and certainly if any humans came their way. That done, he settled even more heavily back against the tree, again forcing a smile back in Maes' direction and hoping against hope that somehow, somewhere in there, Maes saw it, and somehow, somewhere in there- it helped him.

"I guess I should thank you, huh?" he asked, coughing slightly to clear his throat. And it was stupid, because Maes couldn't fucking hear him, he couldn't listen and be _calmed_ by these ridiculous, inane questions and ramblings to only himself, but he looked at his best friend, caged and hurt and out of his mind, and he just couldn't shut himself up. "For dragging me out to learn about thestrals, I mean... turns out it might have just saved our lives, Maes. You're never going to let me hear the end of that one, are you? _Saving you even as a werewolf,_ you're gonna say, _saving the day for Roy even on the full moon because Roy's an incompetent city boy..._ "

Absentmindedly, suddenly fighting with the thick lump in his throat, Roy tore a bit of his sleeve off, the fabric already frayed and stretching from all he'd been through tonight and easy enough to pull of into a makeshift sort of rag. A wave of his wand had it expunged of all dirt, and then, systematically, he set about using it to wipe clean his many, many wounds.

Maes growled weakly again, the sound still muffled around the cage, and Roy's heart squeezed so suddenly it hurt. "A-anyway, it's- it doesn't matter anymore, right? Now that someone'll be looking for us soon- come on, Maes, you want Professor McGonagall to see you like this? Busy trying to crack your own teeth just for the chance to stretch your legs? You maniac-"

Maes, again, whined, so desperate and pained and loud he could hardly bear to hear it.

This time, Roy, trembling hard with the guilt and horror of it all, kept his eyes to himself.

Most of his cuts were shallow and merely stung, and there was little to do but clean off the wet smears of blood so he could feel at least a little bit less of a beaten mess. There was no mirror around for him to look at himself, and for that he was grateful. His ankle still felt badly sprained, maybe his knee as well- being tossed into the ground at the speed of a human projectile could do that to a person- but they were at least movable, and if push came to shove, he'd be able to stand on them. Perhaps not carry Maes, but he could walk on his own.

His arm- yes, his arm was broken. No doubt about it now. If they were attacked again Roy wasn't sure what the hell he was going to do, because he couldn't wave his wand through nearly any of the proper movements and trying to fake it in a duel or outright brawl was not going to end well.

But, if they had any luck left tonight, that wasn't going to be an issue.

Roy tilted his head back against the tree, laughing weakly even through the agony of a broken rib, shuddering and shaking and too miserable to care, too desperate for this night to end to be calm. "...want to study, Maes?" he asked hopelessly into the night, just unable to bear the silence, the idea of doing _nothing._ What he was resorting to instead was probably laughable but after all that had happened tonight, it was just beyond him to care. He was too hurt, too strained, too exhausted, too _frightened,_ to care. Slowly, shakily, he grabbed for his book bag with his good hand again, this time digging out the first stack of notes he could find and settling them in his lap, lighting his wand tip to glow the papers, and glanced up to smile at Maes one more time.

It probably wouldn't be of much comfort to him. In fact, it _probably_ wouldn't be of any comfort to him at all. Roy would be surprised if he found out Maes was even listening. If he could even focus on anything at all beyond his own pain and the senseless, unending bloodlust of a werewolf.

But it was _something,_ and if there was any chance it would do anything at all to reach him, even if just a little- then he was going to do it.

Even if it was only going to help himself.

Even if it was only selfish- and even if he had already been selfish enough to Maes tonight.

So he opened up his notes, hugging his arm to his chest, and he smiled to Maes, and he started to read aloud. Every few sentences he'd intersperse it with a gentle reminder to study, that their potions final was only three weeks away, wasn't he listening, he'd better thank Roy for this later, and he'd smile, even if he was never quite able to meet Maes' eyes, even if he was never quite able to laugh because it hurt too much. Even smiling was starting to hurt, with the cuts on his face and his swollen lip, but he kept that much, at least, up. Even if it was of no comfort at all to his friend anymore it was something that he needed, and as bad as this night was-

Well, he was just going to have to take what he could get.

He turned through the notes with an increasing slowness, his own exhaustion and already pounding head slowly catching up to him, but still talked on. If Maes had spent hours on end howling himself hoarse, he could at least manage a few meager minutes of one-sided conversation. He turned through the pages, letting himself drift and almost daydream as he read the notes aloud, forcing jokes with a silent and deaf Maes because it hurt too much not to. He turned page after page back, reading on and on- and every so often, he checked his watch, to keep an eye on just how long they had left to survive.

The minutes, again, ticked by.

The forest stayed quiet around them. Maes' new silence as well as the thestral's earlier work in scaring off attackers seemed to have done its job, because nothing came for them again.

Maes kept bleeding. Bleeding even worse, because he was a werewolf, and if he couldn't reach Roy, he'd bite and claw himself instead.

Roy doubted he'd be able to heal him. The charms that worked on cursed wounds were advanced, too advanced for him to want to take the risk of performing them wrong, and even if they weren't, he wouldn't be able to get close enough to him to even try for a long while yet.

Less than six hours, now.

Just less than six hours.

Roy turned another page of his notes, more absentminded than not. He blinked fuzzily to see there wasn't much left, now. He'd been reading on autopilot for a while, lacking the focus and strength to concentrate much more on the words, and now- now he was almost done. There was almost nothing left in his hands to go through. A nervous laugh bubbled up and he couldn't catch it no matter how hard he tried, fingers fidgeting around and suddenly too shaky to hold them flat. What was he supposed to do now? He hadn't thought about it, because there wasn't supposed to be anything left, someone was supposed to have found them before he finished reading and brought this whole thing to an end. Even though that was a dammed stupid think to thing, because reading through his fucking study guide for fucking potions like they were sitting in the dammed library and nothing at all was wrong was never going to take more than thirty minutes, and there was no way in hell help could come that fast, but he'd just let himself think it would because it _needed to_ and- and he couldn't do this for much longer-

He laughed again, cracking and this time, almost hysterical. The papers slipped from his numb fingers to scatter uselessly across the ground, and for a moment all Roy was able to do was just pull his knees up to his chest and bury his dizzy head in them.

He couldn't keep this up for much longer.

He couldn't keep sitting here listening to Maes suffer in a cage that he had put him in. He couldn't keep sitting here knowing there was nothing to do and if they got attacked that it'd be all but over for them because Roy wasn't able to defend him anymore. He couldn't keep sitting out here in the dark and the cold with his only company being his bleeding, anguished best friend and just _hoping_ someone was going to show up.

_I... I can't..._

_What am I supposed to do?!_

"...I'm sorry," he mumbled at last, muffled and weak and _pathetic,_ right into his knees.

Maes just growled and continued to gnaw at the cage, scratching exhaustedly at the furrowed and ruined ground around him.

But- but if Roy kept his eyes away from him, he could imagine his words were getting through. He could pretend he was helping, and after hours of not being able to do anything for him in the slightest- he was just going to have to take what he could get.

So he lifted his head even as he continued to hug himself, curling a little tighter and yet still unable to _actually_ look his best friend in the eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again, louder. "I don't know what I'm doing... I'm don't know how I've ever thought I was helping you. I've just made everything worse, haven't I?"

Maes whined quietly. He scratched the ground again.

"I knew this was too dangerous. I wanted to stay back, I didn't want to follow him- Kimbley, I mean. Augustus. Whatever. I... I knew it was a bad idea, but I let you talk me out of it. ...I should've known better, Maes. I shouldn't have let it happen." He coughed again, trying to swallow through the thickness in his voice, then just shutting his eyes and burying his face even further into his knees when his voice cracked instead. "I s-shouldn't have... god, Maes, if it weren't for me, it _wouldn't_ have! The only reason Kimbley even knows your name is because you're friends with me! If it weren't for me he never would've bothered you, not _once,_ and I- god, I _know_ what you're going to say, Maes, you're going to say that you don't care, that you're better off having met me and don't regret it but I- I'm _sorry,_ Maes. I'm so sorry for letting this happen. I'm so sorry for leading him to you. I know what you'll say, I know what you're thinking, it's not my fault Kimbley's a damn psychopath and got his kicks by slapping an eleven year old in the face or trying to humiliate you but I'm- I'm still... I'm s-still _sorry."_

For just a miserable moment, Roy dragged his gaze back up to his best friend only to jerkily drag his eyes away again just as fast, hating the sight of the blood and the misery, the cage and his _pain,_ heart lurching so violently he wanted to throw up. He wiped desperately at his cheek for a moment, breaths shuddering again, trying to reclaim whatever shreds of composure he had left even though they were already long gone.

But he couldn't, because all there was to hear was Maes growling and _whimpering._

"And I'm not-" Roy broke off, fighting to clear his thick throat again, some part of him even suddenly fighting tears, "I'm n-not saying I wish I'd never met you, Maes. I know this isn't all my fault. And I already know you'd say you don't care about Kimbley, that you wouldn't hate me even if it _was_ my fault.. B-but- damn it, Maes, _damn it,_ I told you I'd never let this happen! I _promised_ you'd never have to spend another full moon like this again! I promised you I'd protect you! I promised you that and, and w-what, was Kimbley listening? Is that why he did this? To make this night as awful and ironic as possibly could, to laugh at us like it's funny, like-?"

And then his voice was shaking too much for him to go on and it cracked and died in his throat, failing him. Failing him like he'd spent this entire damn night failing Maes. He slumped backwards again and stared back to his best friend, wishing there was something, anything that he could, and in the same breath knowing there was absolutely nothing except sitting here to wait, and to hope.

"...all I'm saying," he croaked at last, "is that I wish I'd been a better friend."

Maes whined, and scratched, and gnawed, and bled, and Roy was left with no choice but to just listen to him.

To listen to him until, minutes later into the night, as his watch ticked just on the edge of one in the morning- his Intruder Charm went off.

Roy froze.

The spell rippled over him like a wave, an ice cold ocean wave that tasted of salt and bitterness, trepidation and shock. Anxiety skyrocketed in him again, hand clenching around his wand, and suddenly all his pain and bruises were smothered as he sat bolt upright, staring into the darkness and all but paralyzed with the terror of it.

Someone was here.

Could it be someone from the school already? But so little time had passed... the thestral would've had to run right into Hohenheim to get a professor out this fast. But if not someone from the school, who else could it be? Maes had been so much quieter for hours now... could it be just a wandering creature of the forest unaware of what it was stumbling into?

Roy's hand around his wand tensed again.

This night had been so horrifically unlucky up to this point he couldn't dare let himself believe that. Not for one single second.

Roy didn't risk moving, knowing he wouldn't be able to do so quietly. He didn't risk calling out, knowing it wasn't safe and even if it had been his mouth was abruptly too dry for him to manage it. A flicker of guilt burned within him but without a heartbeat of hesitation he aimed his wand at Maes for a wordless silencing charm, a spell that had Maes curling up with a desperate, miserable sort of gasp that made it look as if he was about to cry.

Roy mouthed an apology, just as wordless as the spell, and kept his focus back around at the shadows of the clearing, wand at the ready and heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his skull.

He'd feel guilty about it later. He'd let himself feel guilty about it when he could- when it was _safe_ to.

It wasn't now.

Unlike when the troll had approached them, it was silent. Almost eerily so. If it was another monster, or even a professor, there was no way they could've been this quiet. It remained too dark for Roy to see past the trees but he wasn't going to risk casting an illumination spell, couldn't risk bringing even more attention to them, but... there was something _here..._

Something coming.

For a few more moments, there was nothing. Maes scratched miserably at the ground, opening his mouth over and over again, trying to howl even after being so effectively silenced.

And then, as Roy shivered and squinted through the trees- shapes began to melt out of the shadows.

First amorphous, dark masses, blurring together and indistinct. But they were _there._ And then they were closer, _they,_ because it was more than one, and it was all around them, surrounding him and Maes on all sides and still so quiet he could barely hear the footsteps, but they were _there,_ so many of them-

Until, one by one, the creatures formed out of the darkness, and Roy could see who had found them.

Centaurs.

Dozens of them.

"Well," one announced steadily, bow strung and in hand, standing tall at the head of the pack. He smiled coldly. "It looks as if we've found the werewolf."

And they did not look happy.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks so much for all the comments/kudos! :D
> 
> obligatory hey American adult + citizen readers, if you have not yet voted, TUESDAY IS THE DAY, THESE ELECTIONS ARE SUPER IMPORTANT, PLS AND TY but regardless, I'll shut up about that from now on
> 
> See you on Thursday for Chapter 6! We're almost done here, folks! I hope you enjoy :D

Roy was screwed.

The centaurs, with a fluidity and certainty that was almost of a hive mind, completely and utterly surrounded them with such security it was heart-stopping. Even if Roy _hadn't_ been hurt, there was no outrunning them or even slipping through their impenetrable ring around them. There was no moving even an inch against them, not with dozens of crossbows aimed right for his _face._ Maes, at least, might've been able to if not for, oh right, his broken leg, and the fact that there were about a dozen crossbows trained on him at that exact moment too. And the broken leg. And the fact that he'd probably still target Roy and not the centaurs. That, too. _And_ the fact that the centaurs were looking to be in no mood to treat either of them kindly. And the very badly broken leg. There was _still_ that.

So... yeah.

He was really, _really_ screwed.

There was a long stretch of silence. The centaurs remained towering over him and silent and unapproachable as a brick wall. None looked welcoming. His stomach twisted into an even tighter, terrified knot.

His wand, he realized belatedly, suddenly felt a little more like a twig than a weapon, and it fell abruptly from cold fingers to the ground.

"...He... hello?" he coughed nervously.

The centaurs glared and were silent.

"...hello?" he tried again, mouth dry, voice struggling in his throat. "I... y-you are... hi?"

Then, he mentally smacked himself, and if he hadn't been quite so stared at at the moment, would've probably physically smacked himself in the forehead, too.

_Oh, if that wasn't the must pathetic greeting of the century, Roy._

The centaurs, meanwhile, glared again.

One, however, just one, dark haired and deadly and he _swore_ he wasn't making it up when he said he was bigger than the rest- that one reared up a bit, spreading his hooves as if establishing dominance, and steadily, dangerously, stepped forward. "You are on centaur land," he said flatly, bow lowered just a bit, but none of his companions did the same and the silent threat weighing on the air around them hung just a little bit heavier. "You and the werewolf. You are on our land."

Roy swallowed tensely. He was suddenly very, very, uncomfortable, sitting there uselessly on the ground, but the idea of struggling up weakly to his feet and prop himself against a tree, making such a show out of how injured and weak he was, was somehow even more intolerable than just remaining down here. "...I'm... I'm sorry," he finally managed, and it was a miracle his voice was steady at all. He blinked up at the centaur who he assumed was head of the pack, trying to assume some sort of authority here no matter how probably laughable it was. "We, um. We weren't supposed to be here. We're from Hogwarts, this- it's an accident. I'm sorry. We've... actually been trying to get out of here all night..."

"Your intentions are irrelevant," the centaur snapped, bristling- along with all of those around him. "This is what we know: You and the werewolf trespass on our territory tonight. Not how you got here or what you have meant to do- all we know is what we see before us right now." The head of the pack scowled a little, narrowed eyes focusing in on the cage instead of Roy, a cold sort of twist coming to his thin mouth. "His cries have disturbed his forest all night."

This earned a murmur of accordance around him, the centaurs grumbling to each other and shifting, just on the edge of the clearing. Not advancing, but certainly not withdrawing- and Roy _really_ did not like the look of those crossbows. He really did not like the look of how many narrowed, angry eyes were on him at that moment. He really, really, _really_ did not like how everywhere he looked, they were _there,_ looking down at him- looking down at him and _Maes-_

He really did not like where this was headed.

Swallowing hard again, Roy started to push himself up a little more against the tree, hands trembling and clammy and heart pounding but desperately trying to maintain their attention, to be taken seriously. "...he's in pain. I'm sorry, he's in a lot of pain right now and I can't calm him down. He- he needs help! He's hurt! Look at him, he's badly injured- he just needs some help, I-"

There was laughter, this time, cold and angry and all around him, a soft sort of cruel humor that passed straight over his head but made his blood chill all the same. And the head of the pack led them in it, sharp and mocking, eyes flashing and sneer deepening on his face just a little more. "That werewolf's existence is against our law," he said over the amusement, all but baring his teeth in a feral grin. "We would no sooner help him than we would bear a human on our backs."

This time, the laughter was louder.

This time, Roy's skin crawled.

This time, he realized the open hostility with which all those centaurs were regarding Maes, and this time, he realized, with a creeping sense of horror, why exactly those centaurs had come here.

"So..." Roy started hesitantly, "if- if you're not going to help us..." And he forged on ahead anyway, blocking out his new understanding of just why these centaurs had all come here tonight, surrounding him and surrounding Maes and eying them both with the sort of condescension he might look down upon an ant with, blocking it all out of his mind with a fruitless, desperate sort of last ditch hope, "and you can see he... you can see _Maes_ isn't able to hurt you... can you leave us alone? I understand we're on your land- but we honestly didn't mean to be. We didn't know and never meant to be out here in the first place! We were tricked out here to begin with, it wasn't even his fault- and we're leaving as soon as he transforms back, regardless! You have my word, we'll leave as soon as we can!" he begged frantically, voice rising until it nearly cracked with the panic of it. He swallowed again, staring around at all those cold, unreadable eyes and again pushing on, forcing himself on a surely failed venture to convince them all, giving it all what precious little he had left. "So- so if that's all you wanted, then to get us to go, well... we _are._ We will! The moment the sun rises, we'll be- be trying to head back..."

The lead centaur frowned dangerously again. To Roy's complete lack of surprise, none of the others appeared very swayed by this argument, either.

"If you are concerned for yourself," he said at last, "don't be. We have a sworn obligation to Van Hohenheim to not harm any student who strays across our path, so be it that they have not harmed us first. We have no business with you, and will even provide an escort for you back to the castle if you require it- again, as Hohenheim has requested us to. You will not be harmed."

"But-"

"But that werewolf’s existence," the centaur spoke coldly over him, "is against our law. And Van Hohenheim's treaty never spoke of any werewolf."

Roy gulped.

Yeah, that... that was exactly where he'd seen this heading.

Another cold shiver took over him, shuddering through him from head to toe, and suddenly, he found his heart clenching with such trepidation it was hard to speak at all.

“But..." he finally choked out, throat dry and the words desperate in his mouth, "but- but he's a student, too!" Suddenly, without even a conscious thought put it, his legs were finally struggling him upright to stand even though every single look from every single centaur made him want to melt into the ground to hide and never be seen again. It _hurt,_ and was embarrassing in more ways than one, his legs still pathetically unsteady underneath him and his hand scraping desperately at the nearest tree for balance, with all eyes still on right him, but he fought his way up anyway, struggling higher and suddenly finding himself fighting to not be ignored. "He’s a seventh year, like me! Maes Hughes, he’s in Hufflepuff, he's a-“

“He’s not a student tonight. Tonight, he is a monster. You even know this, human- or do you mean to tell me you not the one who caged him?"

"I-" Roy stopped, throat tightening, and went silent. He turned his gaze wordlessly away from the centaur, abruptly unable to answer him.

Even as his heart twisted so guiltily again he flinched through the pain of it, and even while his eyes were pulled right back to his best friend, trapped and helpless in the middle of the clearing, in what was such an obvious admission of guilt he might as well have shouted it.

And there, he saw Maes in a way he could no longer just ignore.

He looked terrified.

He looked like Roy had tied him down to be executed. Like at least, without him, he could've had a fighting chance- but Roy had demanded to stay, demanded to cage him, demanded to cripple him... and now, after all of that, he couldn't even protect him.

It seemed that was all Roy had ever been good for, even after all this time.

Failing to protect Maes.

"So it is true," the lead centaur finished coldly. "You even caged him yourself. You _know_ how dangerous he is, yet you would still ask us to help him? To leave him be?"

"That's not-"

"He’s an abomination against nature!" the centaur suddenly shouted, brandishing his crossbow again- and all the others right along with him. "He will kill any who crosses his path, and exists only to further the existence of his depraved race! Your Ministry puts down greater creatures than him like dogs- and you say he is just a _student,_ but if you hadn't been here with him tonight, how many would he have attacked? How many would he have killed?!"

Roy's heart lurched. There was cold laughter all around him again, the centaurs hovering still just on the very edge of the clearing but somehow even closer now, and Maes looked so damn _scared,_ curling himself into a smaller and smaller baller and trying to whimper but still strangled by Roy's spell. He was helpless and hurt and miserable and frightened, and the centaurs were all _laughing_ at them now, laughing the way Kimbley and all his friends had circled and laughed at Roy his first year. But Maes had saved him then, his best friend had saved him without a second thought, and Roy had spent six years trying to pay him back for it, even though it could never be enough he was always trying, always trying to protect him, always trying to- but it was never, ever enough, it could never _be_ enough, and tonight was his most shameful, horrific failure of all, and- and-

And he just _snapped._

He was on his feet before he knew it, wand back in his hand, and it hurt to walk and it hurt even more to run but his feet drove him forwards anyway as if possessed. He lunged forwards, stumbling over the roots and scarred, twisted earth to throw himself to Maes, scrambling around to the other side of the cage to stand between him and the centaur pack. He threw his good arm out, a seething sort of fury bubbling up to overflow, taking him over from the inside out as his bruised jaw clenched and whole body tensed, and he met the centaur's eyes, and for far from the first time this night, he readied himself for a fight.

The laughter cut off so abruptly he might as well have silenced them, just like he'd silenced Maes.

The leader grimaced at him, all traces of calm gone from his face now as he stood there, just as tense as all the rest of the pack. Just as _dangerous._ "...Do you think you can honestly hold us back?" he asked quietly, tilting his head to the side. "All of us by yourself, human? And merely for the sake of a werewolf?"

Roy clenched his jaw even tighter. A wave of cold, righteous anger washed through him that was so strong, it nearly tore him apart.

He hadn't been able to defend him against Kimbley.

But he _could_ defend him against this.

"My name," he snapped, "is Roy Mustang. And _his_ name," he pointed violently to the caged werewolf behind him, "is Maes Hughes. And if you want to hurt him, you're going to have to go through me... whether I can stop you or not."

The centaurs bristled around him, frowning and wary, now, the dangerous confidence they'd all surrounded them with fading in place of an unsettled sense of unease. A few glanced at each other, murmuring- and Roy stood his ground.

He couldn't fight off all these centaurs. Not in his current condition. In fact, he was simply asking to get trampled right to death without the centaurs even having to break a sweat.

And he'd still meant exactly what he'd said: if they wanted to hurt Maes, they were going to have to go through him to do it.

The centaur at the lead finally took another step forward, eyes narrowing and hand tensing on his bow. "You would fight us? Do you not remember what was said to you, only minutes ago? Hohenheim's treaty only protects you so long as you do not harm us. If you attack us, we will have no choice but to attack you."

Roy nodded solidly. He did not allow himself to move even an inch away from Maes. His wand stayed up- and the centaurs around him, increasingly wary. They glanced to each other, murmuring, but did not come forward.

"Well?" Roy asked after several moments. He glared defiantly up at their leader, not daring to cast a spell just yet but making his intentions plain. He wanted the centaurs to back off, not engage them in a bloody fire fight. "You're the one who said you were going to do this. You're the ones who came all this way for it. You're the ones who said you were only sparing me because Hohenheim asked you to. So? Are you going to keep going- murder us both, even though you came to find us both defenseless?" He raised an eyebrow, holding his ground even as the uncertainty around him thickened, the stillness darkening. "It's your move, centaur. Not mine."

The lead centaur bristled again, and he wasn't the only one, but this time another trotted just a little closer by his side, one of the many who look uncomfortable the turn this had taken and even starting to lower his bow. "Bane, it's just a child... and if his words are true, so is the werewolf... perhaps we should-"

"Firenze, quiet!"

But Roy heard the weakness and pounced on it, dragging himself a step forward and lifting his wand just a little more, even when it got a ripple of sudden tensing in the crowd around them, even when it abruptly got more weapons trained on him in an instant, because he _had_ to. "No, listen to Firenze. He's right, isn't he? You came out tonight hunting for a werewolf but you weren't expecting to find this, were you? You weren't expecting to find him helpless. So what are you going to do, then? Are you going to murder a defenseless animal? One who's hurt and can't even do anything to you, but is somehow still so dangerous you say you have to put him down like a wild dog? And me along with him? Is that what you're going to do?"

The centaur, Bane, evidently, abruptly glowered, face transforming into a livid, pressing stare as he suddenly advanced, wild and furious and his herd along with him. "You dare to insult us? You dare to insult our honor- when it is _you_ who wishes to attack _us?!_ Because we've told you, _human,_ your life will be spared. And yet you insist on fighting us, and try and claim it is dishonorable for us to fight back?!"

"Yeah," Roy hissed. "Yeah. I do."

Bane's glare turned red hot with rage. His hold on his weapon tightened as it was raised, and he wasn't the only one.

And Roy, finger by finger, with his heart pounding so hard and blood running cold with a shaken terror it was a miracle hadn't shown on his face by now, released his grip on his wand, and let it clatter to the forest floor.

"Yeah," he said again. "Because no matter how you describe what you're about to do, you're about to try and kill a child. One who's hurt. One who's helpless, and has no power to hurt any of you back."

"If you had not caged him-"

"Look at him!" Roy shouted. "He’s wounded, and badly! He’s of no threat to any of you! Even if I let him go he wouldn't be a threat to any one of you!"

The centaur pack shifted again, a few glancing to each other and mumbling, a few others seeming uncomfortable again but still not lowering their bows.

Again, Roy saw that weakness, and again, he struck.

"I know it’s your law," he went on, but quieter than before, forcing his voice past the terrified strangehold around his heart to be as calm as he could will it, as persuasive as he could make it even if he was so fucking scared he could barely think straight. "But isn’t that only because werewolves are a danger to you?! Well, he’s been going to that school for seven years, and this is the very first time he’s broken into your territory like this- and even that was because another human tricked him out here and wounded him! He never would've even risked being out here tonight otherwise! I only caged him because he _begged_ me to do it, because he knows what he's capable of and never wants to do it! I swear on my own life, Maes Hughes is no danger to any of you!”

Bane stiffened again, hand still clutching his weapon- but god, at least it was no longer aimed at his head. It could be at a moment's notice, Roy was sure, and he was even more sure that that centaur was not going to miss... but anything that kept it away from his face and let him breathe just a little bit easier was just all he could ask for, at this point.

"You can not swear anything in the werewolf's place," Bane said at length, words stiff and still cold. "You should not make an oath that is so easily broken-“

"I’ll swear it for him!" Roy cried back, moving another step to center himself even more determinedly directly in front of his friend. "He’s... Maes Hughes is a member of _my_ pack! All of these centaurs are members of yours- so he's a member of mine! So when he’s wounded, I’ll protect him! And when _you_ threaten him, I’ll protect him! And I’ll never let him hurt anyone else, because he’s a good person and he’d die before he cursed anyone else with what was done to him! He- _Maes Hughes_ is a member of _my_ pack, and I’ll die before I let you touch him!”

This impromptu, shaken speech, however, did not provide the sort of reaction he'd been hoping for.

They laughed at him. Again.

Louder than before, more confident than before, a ring of amused, condescending laughter that made him feel about two inches tall. Surrounded by a ring of creatures all ten feet tall and now smirking and laughing at him, even many of the ones who looked more hesitant about this before, murmuring to each other and eying Maes like he was a piece of trash to be discarded and stepped on- and looking at Roy like was nothing more than a walking, talking, unfortunately pathetic punchline.

Roy's face warmed, and his ears burned, and his hands now shook so badly it was probably a good thing he'd dropped his wand, because he certainly wouldn't be able to aim it now.

And he stood his ground through it all.

He had no choice.

He'd committed to this path and his only chance was if he stuck to it now through the end.

So he didn't move. Even as the centaurs around him laughed, and even as the werewolf behind him began to whimper softly, the silencing charm wearing off long after it had done any good. Even as his own bruised and sore legs started trembling and he was quickly lacking the strength to even stand for much longer. Even as the weapons around him got closer and it seemed escape was more and more improbable, he refused to stand down.

If they wanted to hurt Maes, he wasn't going to let them pretend this was anything less than murder.

"Do not," Bane said at last, a grim smile still spreading across his face, "attempt to sway us by trying to speak to us on our level. Do not speak as if a _pack_ is anything you humans can understand. If your hope is for you and the werewolf to escape tonight, then you'd best not consider insulting us."

The centaurs joined each other in a cold, mocking sort of laughter again, all like before- all except for one. Firenze, the same one who had spoken up before, tried to move closer to Bane again. He started to say something, too quiet for Roy to hear, but the leader of the pack cut him off before he even got more than a single word in.

"However," Bane went on quietly. "Human."

A few moments of uncertainty passed. The laughter died out.

"...you are right, when you say this werewolf is wounded too grievously to be of danger to us, and furthermore, if you are telling the truth, that he has lived on our borders for seven years, and never been of danger to us. If this the case, then perhaps an exception can be made."

Again, the round of centaurs stiffened- and this time, Roy stiffened with them.

_An... an exception...?_

But, that meant...

Bane looked past him for several moments, dark eyes landing on Maes. He lowered his bow an inch to run his free hand through his black hair, inscrutable gaze still focused on the werewolf. At last, still not looking to Roy at all, he said quietly, "Your Headmaster Hohenheim has already proven to us that we may not discount a whole race based only on the actions of a few- or, even the actions of the majority. Perhaps this thinking may extend beyond humans, and to the life of that... your inhuman friend."

The centaurs all shifted abruptly, surprise and disbelief painfully evident in how they grabbed their weapons even tighter and stared at Bane, like they couldn't believe what they were hearing- and Roy with them. He couldn't believe it, and he gaped up at the centaur without even trying to disguise his shock, limp with shock and stomach bottoming out so hard he found himself suddenly nauseous.

"I- ...t-thank you," he stammered, so abruptly emotional and surprised his voice almost broke. "Thank you, s-so much- I- I don't know what to s-"

"You waste your words," Bane snapped dismissively. The bow, he noticed, was still held rather tightly in his hands. "We don't have a use for your gratitude. If you must offer us something, instead, promise us this: as soon as you are able, both you and your werewolf will leave this place. You will not come back. And know that this exception is gifted for tonight, and tonight only: if the moon rises and he finds himself here again, and is a danger to my people, we will not show mercy. Do you understand?"

Roy worked his mouth frantically for several seconds, shaking still and all but unable to speak. At last he just managed to tilt his head in a desperate sort of nod, over and over again, probably looking miserable and pathetic and weak but he couldn't help himself and if this was really happening, if they were really going to leave Maes alone-

If they were really _going-_

He shook too hard to speak, to even be coherent at all, but he kept himself up on his feet somehow and frantically nodding like a bobblehead to watch as Bane glanced around to all of the centaur herd in what was clearly an unspoken order to follow. Then, with an undeniable sense of urgency, he turned his back, and led the way out of the clearing.

And, one by one, with many wary and suspicious glances in his direction and some even of outright hostility, the other centaurs followed. Each and every one of them left, and none made any move to try and hurt either of them.

They were leaving. They were- they were _safe._

They were going.

They were actually leaving.

They-

They were actually _doing it!_

Roy still didn't dare move, too nervous to even crouch down to pick up his wand again. He couldn't bring himself to shift so much as an inch as he watched them all retreat, trotting away, so many glaring back at him but it didn't matter because they were _leaving._ One by one, each and every one, not one single attempt made to even try and harm Maes until they were all gone- save for one.

Save for Firenze.

The younger centaur remained behind, quiet and motionless at the very edge of the clearing. He did not make any move to approach, or to follow the rest of his pack.

He just looked impassively at Roy, and Maes behind him, with such piercing eyes it was downright unsettling.

Roy swallowed hard, fighting to find his voice in the face of that unreadable, immovable stare. "You- ...thank you," he said at last. Voice thick or not. Emotions a whole shaky minefield of a tumultuous, nauseating maelstrom or not. "For speaking up for us. You didn't have to do that."

Firenze said nothing for a moment, merely watching him with that same hard look that was impossible to decipher. Then, with an air of finality, he unstrung his bow and turned his back like all of the others, preparing to leave him and Maes alone in the night- but not, clearly, without getting the last word.

"The stars above us write that the courses of three lives will be changed forever, after this night." He straightened his back, turning fully away. "We can not be sure- but I believe a different fortune would have been told, if either one of you was meant to die here tonight."

He paused again.

"Good luck, Roy. Good luck, Maes."

Then, without so much as another single breath of stillness, he galloped off after the rest of his brethren, and Roy was left alone.

Alone with Maes, and however much was left of the night that they were supposed to survive.

At first, it was as if time itself had stopped. Roy was frozen in place and even Maes was suddenly silent behind him, and everything else around them was frozen, too. The shadows had reforged themselves into an impenetrable blackness around their clearing, a shield of stillness that was their safety for only so long as it wasn't broken. So he stared nervously at those shadows, on edge and shaking, just waiting for the centaurs to suddenly burst back in aimed straight for Maes, or another troll, or any of the innumerable monsters that hid in this forest and had heard the equivalent of Maes screaming all night...

But the seconds ticked by, and there was no new threat to be found.

None at all.

Just the coldness and the stillness of the forest, impenetrable all around the them, and nothing more beyond the cloud of darkness that had re-formed to cage them both in under its safety and isolation.

Nothing came at all.

He held absolutely still, heart hammering away furiously in his chest so hard he felt it, frantic breaths gasped in and out, hands cold and shaking and legs numb and trembling with the weakness of terror.

Until at last, Roy collapsed.

He hit the ground on his knees and buried his face in his hand, choking out gasps and near sobs, the sudden drop of nauseating adrenaline leaving him nearly hysterical. "Holy shit," he panted, but the words were so muffled and warped he couldn't even understand them, "holy shit, Maes... _god..."_

He couldn't stop shaking and this was the worst he'd been trembling all night, any pain he'd felt before completely wiped away by the face and aftermath of sheer terror. He wiped his damp face with the back of his hand then found himself wiping it against, blinking desperate, relived tears away, then doubled over on himself and choked on yet another laugh. "Y-you owe me a g-goddamn thank you note, M-Maes, you owe me a twenty inch essay on why I'm the fucking best- you're _never_ going to live this d-down, I- I just argued with a motherfucking _centaur!_ They were gonna kill me! They- oh my god, Maes! Oh my _god!_ I'm never stepping foot into this forest again and I'm running away from the next horse I see, and _yes_ you can make fun of me for it, I don't care, that- t-that was..."

He fell off into another sort of sob, dropping his hand to let it land on his wand and bow his head, again almost hysterical. God, he was losing it. He was losing it and they still had god knew how many hours to go and Maes was going to need him to not have his head somewhere around the clouds when he shifted back.

He took several deep, shuddering breaths, or at least attempted to, each one a little bit steadier than the last but by no means reassuring. He stared down at his hands, trying to will them to stop shaking, then when that didn't work just forcefully intertwined his fingers together to try and hold them still. He was such a mess and could still feel himself falling apart but once he focused again, actually put the effort into screwing his head back on tight, he finally managed to slowly start to calm himself down.

Maes was beginning to whimper quietly again behind him, and that, more than anything else, started to get his breaths to slow and his shaking to ease.

"...you... you know, Hughes?" he asked finally, voice rough and maybe even a little thick. Slowly, rubbing a hand across his cheek again, he began to awkwardly shuffle a little bit aways on the ground, aiming for to rest against the nearest tree. "They laughed at me. The centaurs, I mean, they laughed at me, but... you are my pack. You are my pack. So... so I’m gonna fucking _kill_ Kimbley, but in the meantime, you don’t have to worry about anything, okay? I’ll keep you safe." He smiled to himself with a single, determined nod. "I promise I'll keep you safe. I know I promised you'd never have to spend another night in a cage and I- I guess I was wrong, and I'm _sorry,_ but... I know I can at least promise you this. I'll never let something like this ever happen aga-"

Roy stopped.

He blinked.

He stared.

Maes, his jaw still hooked around the much mangled bar and his teeth sunk into it like magnets, was glaring up at him. He was tensed, curled, and wild.

And the bar, Roy abruptly realized, the same bar that Maes had spent all night trying to gnaw through with teeth made for hacking through bone- that bar was about to be sliced clean through.

A cold drop of sweat rolled down the back of his neck.

"M... Maes...?"

The werewolf, tensed and gnawing and angry, growled again.

And then, with one last ferocious rip of his jaw, he tore the bar clean off.

Roy's euphoria turned right around on its head, and his stomach abruptly dropped in a gutwrenching wave of horror.

Maes blinked up at him, fierce eyes narrow and pointed ears flattening down against his head. He growled angrily again, sniffing the air like he was smelling for blood, then ducked his head down, curling himself up to be as small as possible, tensed and coiled and taut like a pulled bowstring.

And he slowly, painfully, limped his way out of the cage.

He barely fit in the recently vacated space, the uneven, torn edges scraping against his flesh, but he crawled on out as if he couldn't feel it at all. Dragging himself inch by inch, slinking through the bars, glaring up at Roy the entire time until he was free- and even then. Even once he was no longer confined in any way.

He just kept on just staring up at Roy, eyes narrowed as if he was eying a piece of meat.

He was free.

He was completely, totally free.

Roy stumbled a horrified step backwards, and almost tripped over his own feet and fell right then and there.

Oh.

Maes shifted slowly, dragging his bad leg along the ground but with his teeth bared and no sign that the devastating injury was crippling him with the pain in any way. He dragged himself another foot forward, breathing harder, breathing faster, furious now, eyes growing wilder by the second, slow only due to injury and it was horrifyingly obvious that without it, he already would've lunged and torn Roy apart.

So this time, Roy didn't hesitate.

He raised his wand, already backpedaling as fast as he could, and shot the strongest stunning spell that he'd ever done straight into Maes' face.

The werewolf was sent flying, the concussive force of the spell lifting him into the air but Roy was already running, turning frantically around and around the clearing, searching this way and that for some way to go- a tree to climb, something to contain Maes with, _anything-_

But there was nothing at all strong enough to protect him from a deadly werewolf and his time was already running out.

Maes landed in a sprawling heap ten or so feet back, a shivering lump of matted, bloody fur and his leg- oh, no. Roy's stomach lurched even as he stumbled backwards again, staring at his leg. That landing had not been good for it. It was bent the wrong way in more ways that one and there was blood everywhere and there was _bone_ in all the wrong places and- and that was _wrong._ He knew, staring at that wound, that he could not hurt Maes like that again. He could not. If he kept going, even when Maes transformed back it would be broken far too badly for Roy to ever fix it and far too badly for them to travel- maybe even far too badly for it _ever_ be totally fixed. He could not do it.

And the landing had done more than hurt the leg; it had finally gotten something through the bloodlust, even if that something was clearly horrific, mind-numbing _agony._ The werewolf twitched and jerked on the ground, scratching desperately and even biting at one of his own paws, gnawing on it like a gruesome gag to stop himself from screaming, and then even that was abruptly not enough when he abruptly threw his head back and howled to the sky, howled like there was no tomorrow, howled so long and loud and desperate it was bloodcurdling and the agony of it reverberated in every syllable.

Roy froze again. Every nerve in his body burnt miserable with regret and there was abruptly a cold rock of poisonous guilt sinking straight down into his stomach, chaining his every limb to bind him helpless , sick, and paralyzed.

Because there was nowhere to run, and now, there was nothing even for him to do to Maes to stop this.

Maes was hurt. Badly. If Roy tried to take him out of commission, he could hurt him too badly for the healers to ever completely fix. And Roy didn't know any other way to fight off a werewolf through sheer, brute force.

Force that he could not bring himself to use.

There was nowhere to run. Even in Maes' current state, even when a child could outrun him, Roy could not do it. Not when he was injured himself and he was lost and that thestral was supposed to lead professors back _here_ , not follow them all throughout this godforsaken forest, not when running could lead them straight back into the centaur herd or another troll or any one of the dozens of nightmares lurking in this forest and get them both killed.

He couldn't run, and he couldn't fight.

So all he could do was stand down.

Roy felt a peculiar sort of chill come over him as he looked down at Maes' shivering lump of a form, the werewolf already trying to get up and come for him but kept collapsing as the pain got the best of him. He already knew it wouldn't keep getting the best of him for long.

Far from the first time this night, Maes' last words before the transformation had claimed him came back to him.

The plea that, if he got free, Roy was to do whatever he had to to stop him..

_If I get free... promise me..._

Maes hadn't been able to finish the words before the transformation had robbed them from him. But it didn't matter. Roy had known what he'd been trying to say just as well as he'd known Maes himself. He'd seen it in his desperate, pleading eyes exactly what he'd wanted to tell him.

_If I get free, promise me that you'll kill me._

Maes wouldn't kill him. Roy knew it. Roy had studied it and so had Maes, so much more than him, reading every source he could find for years- and he knew that Maes wouldn't kill him. Werewolf attacks weren't meant to be fatal. They were meant to spread their species- not kill everyone they had a chance to infect. Maes wouldn't kill him. He would bite him, then fall back.

All Maes was going to do was spread the curse to him.

Maes had known that when he'd asked Roy that. He'd still begged that he kill him, because Roy already knew, his best friend would rather die than spread what he had been cursed with to anybody else in the world.

Roy would not kill him.

Not even when Maes had begged him to do it.

He would not, would not, would _not._

Because he could, instead, let this happen.

He... he _would_ let this happen.

As earthly terrified as he already was right now, he knew those words were true with as much certainty as he'd ever known anything in his life. He clutched onto that certainty now, the only security he had left, as he drew himself up to his full height and faced his trembling best friend, the werewolf who was, even now, finally staring to clamber onto his feet again.

He could do this for his best friend.

 _"Wingardium Leviosa,"_ he said calmly (at least, he pretended it was calm, and ignored the desperate, pathetic crack in his voice that told the story otherwise). He waved his wand gently at Maes, carefully lifting the still struggling werewolf into just enough into the air to keep him from touching the ground. Then, once the weightlessness charm was secure, he turned his wand to the rough ground underneath him, softening it into a bed of cottony padding that would cushion the blow when he inevitably fell as much as he could.

The exact same way Maes had done for him, so very long ago.

Roy fought as strong a smile as he could back onto his face even as his heart cracked, and looked at him as steadily as he could.

Maes wouldn't hear him now. But he would remember this. And it was to that end that Roy spoke.

"Maes," he said quietly, and as bravely as he could, he smiled.

"I know this won’t mean anything to you now. That I can't stop you- and I'm not trying to. But you will remember this later, and that's why I'm saying this. I want you to remember this. So- so, Maes. If you hurt me tonight. If you bite me- it’s okay. It’s not your fault. I understand. Let me say that again, Maes: it’s not your fault. Whatever blame there is for tonight rests on Kimbley alone, and... a-and myself, for letting you down. You’re my best friend, Maes, my friend, my brother, and I... I love you. I d-don’t want you to... to _ever_ blame yourself for tonight. Okay, M-Maes? Whatever happens from here on out..." his voice cracked, and he stopped, desperately swallowing the lump in his throat as the words threatened dangerously to break, and as much as it hurt, he looked the struggling, furious werewolf right in the eyes, and again- he smiled.

"I forgive you.”

Then, calmly, Roy sheathed his wand, hiding it back securely in its holder, side by side with where he'd stashed Maes, so neither could be broken. He took a deep breath, and, even as he started shaking so badly he could barely manage the motion at all, sat down to wait.

For the rest of his life, Roy would only remember three things more about that night:

The livid madness of bloodlust, lighting up his best friend's familiar, bright green eyes when he finally hit the ground.

The heavy weight of being body-slammed, and just a heartbeat after that, a tearing, ripping, indescribable pain.

And, just as darkness began to fall over his eyes, the voice of Headmaster Hohenheim, and the blinding, beaming red glow of a spell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos/comments! Okay... a few in house announcements, folks:
> 
> 1\. Thanks to Sleepysaur for letting me know the series was out of order! Tis fixed now, and was an accident, not intended to make last update's cliffhanger more suspenseful than it was or anything. As I said, tis fixed!
> 
> 2\. Okay, I split this chapter up, because it was STUPIDLY long, 12k words??? Again??? C'mon, Ranowa ;-; That's why the total chapters just jumped from 7 to 8. I'm posting the second half right after this, so if you're in the mood for a marathon, you can sprint on ahead, but if not you can leave the second part for another day. Happy reading! <3
> 
> 3\. See you all for the final update on Sunday!

As Head Girl, Riza Hawkeye had become very used to being pulled out of class.

It had, over the course of her final year, become somewhat of a normal occurrence. Escalating to oftentimes once a week, sometimes even more, a professor would come along and gesture for her to come with them, and she was to stand up and immediately follow. Usually ut was to receive instruction for some upcoming event, to assist the professor, or even to oversee a class of younger students- nothing serious or overly burdensome, but a constant she had grown to depend on. She tended not to like it; it made preparing for her NEWTs that much more difficult- but, by now, she had simply grown used to it. It was simply part of being Head Girl.

What she was not used to, however, was everything that happened this morning.

It was not even ten minutes into Charms that a somewhat harried, and _very_ distressed Professor McGonagall to stride boldly into the classroom, her ordinarily tight bun slowly coming undone as if she had already been up for quite a while and the look on her face nothing even close to _normal._ Riza, sighing heavily, found herself starting to stand on instinct alone, one hand curling around her bag's strap and the other around her wand- but McGonagall had barely even looked at her before she was shaking her head.

"Yes, Miss Hawkeye, you'd better come along, too- Mr. Havoc, Mr. Falman, you two need to come with me. There's a matter that I need to discuss with you in private that concerns all of you- quickly, now! Quickly!"

Riza blinked in surprise, already half out of her seat but now moving no further. She turned stared at Havoc and Falman, both of whom shared a table with her and, meanwhile, was looking just as out of sorts by this as she was. Still frowning, she then found herself looking up to Flitwick, as if _he_ might offer some clue or explanation- or at least look as surprised as they were.

He did not.

In fact, he met her eyes when she turned up to him, already grave, troubled, and frowning- as if he, too, knew exactly what was going on.

Definitely not good.

"You'd best get going, you three," he said, when the three of them remained silent and motionless at their table, too taken by surprise to move. He made a little _shooing_ motion with his hand, frown creasing with a deep sense of unhappiness. "You're excused, now."

Riza shifted uneasily again.

Then, with the urging of another quick clear of the throat from McGonagall, she found herself rising to her feet like a puppet with its strings pulled, one hand on Havoc's collar and the other on Falman's, and moved as fast as she could for her professor without breaking into an outright sprint.

This was all uneasy and troubling enough for her to want to know what was happening _now._

McGonagall barely waited for her approach to turn swiftly straight back around, leading them straight out of the classroom. Riza barely managed to catch up in time to make it before the door swung shut-

And, waiting for them out in the corridor, was a very confused Breda and a very confused Fuery.

Definitely not good, and now, getting worse.

"Come along, all of you," McGonagall ordered, turning her back to immediately lead them all off down the hall without so much as a second look or an attempt at an explanation. By the looks of it, Breda and Fuery had been called out of class, too, Breda even still had a lone glove on from Herbology- and neither of them knew what was going on anymore than she did.

"Hey, uh, you guys?" Havoc panted in a hushed sort of whisper, trying to hide the conversation from McGonagall while at the same time keeping up so closely to her there was no way she couldn't hear it. "Do... do _you_ know what's going on...?"

Breda and Fuery both shook their heads, all but jogging to try and keep up with their transfiguration professor. "Not really," the Ravenclaw said, falling into step with his best friend. "Professor McGonagall just showed up right as class started and told us to come... Jean, if you pulled some other bullshit prank-"

"Wha- it wasn't _me!_ Come on! How's it always my fault?!"

"Why else is Professor McGonagall dragging us all out of class- hey, where's Roy? How come he's exempt in this kidnapping?"

"Well-" Jean stopped on a dime, glancing around at all of them again as he dragged a hand through his ragged hair. Riza, too, found herself staring through their meager group of five, even though she'd already known what she'd find.

Roy wasn't there.

"...he wasn't in class this morning," she admitted at last, heart suddenly clenching in her chest. "Never showed up."

There was an uncertain, abruptly trepidatious silence.

They all exchanged increasingly uneasy looks. But this time, looking around their close knit group for a second time, Riza realized the second thing that was wrong with it- and she wasn't the only one.

"Hey," Jean hissed again, "and speaking of missing people- where's Hughes? If we're all involved, shouldn't he be, too?"

Again, however, by Breda's narrowed eyes and Fuery's uncomfortable cough, Riza already could see that the answer wasn't going to be positive.

"He... he wasn't in class, either," Fuery said quietly, his voice small. "I just thought he was sick..."

They all glanced around at each other again, uncertain and confused and _worried-_ worry that only grew by the second, and then, almost as one, they looked back to McGonagall.

This wasn't going to be good news, was it?

Riza, however, had spent seven years with McGonagall as her head of house, and three working even more closely with her as a prefect. She could tell that the professor was distressed and distracted about something, and more than that, knew that trying to press her for information now would take longer and get them less than if they just kept quiet, and allowed her to lead them to wherever she was taking them so urgently.

So she shook her head at the others, each of whom was looking more and more ready to staring a frantic interrogation by the second, and gestured for them to follow.

Even when her anxiety only escalated up into outright worry when she realized that McGonagall was leading them to the hospital wing.

"Professor?" Havoc finally caved- _of course he was the first to break_ \- "Hey, Professor McGonagall, what's going on? Why aren't you telling us anything?"

"In due time, Mr. Havoc." McGonagall came to an abrupt stop just outside the hospital wing doors, making Riza's stomach twist nervously again, both at the distressed look on her face and at the absolutely confirmation that this was where they were headed. She started to pull away, wanting to just burst inside and see what they were dealing with, put an end to this and her rising fear once and for all, but McGonagall swiftly stood in right in the way, her stern features creased with the exhaustion of a sleepless night and the worry from a bad one. She looked down at them all with a troubled sort of frown that was as unsettling as it was worrying, her stern gaze running over them all as if searching for something- but what that something was, Riza could not tell.

"Before I explain what has happened," she began at last, voice tight with stress, "I need to ask you several questions. Firstly: have any of you seen or heard anything at all from Zolf Kimbley since yesterday?"

Riza blinked.

Well. That was... unexpected.

A glance at the others confirmed they were all just as taken aback as she was. Indeed, a glance to her friends confirmed they were all already looking around their group as well as if to make sure that they weren't the only ones completely confused. Uncertainly, and, in near perfect unison, they all looked back up to their professor, and together, they shook their heads.

McGonagall sighed heavily, seeming disappointed but not very surprised. "I see. In that case, if any of you are contacted by him from here on out or see him anywhere inside this school, you are to inform a professor at once. Is that understood?"

Riza stared up at her again, startled. What was going _on?_ Kimbley was... was missing? That didn't seem quite right. McGonagall's instructions didn't seem to come out of a place of concern for _him,_ but for all of them instead, as if it'd be dangerous for them to run into him- but that didn't make sense, did it? As much of a monster that he'd been to Roy and Hughes, he was a student here, just like them... a bully and, in her opinion, a coward, but not to the point where McGonagall would warn them like _this._

"I- yes, ma'am," she promised, nodding like a bobblehead. "We will. _"_

McGonagall looked between them all again for a few moments, seemingly trying to discern how seriously they were taking this, and ready to press the point if they were not. However, whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her, as she let out a heavy sigh, closing her eyes- and that dark worry that already seemed ingrained every part of her deepened.

"Good," she murmured. "Good. Then- secondly... are any of you aware of Mr. Hughes' condition?"

...what?

"His... condition?" Havoc ventured first, glancing back at them all with wide eyes. Once again, it was clear to her that she was not the only one lost here. "What do you mean, his condition? Is he sick?"

Again, however, this answer seemed to merely disappoint McGonagall, and certainly not surprise her. The professor sighed heavily again, shaking her head more to herself than any of them, another shadow crossing her face that only escalated Riza's anxiety to a nearly unmanageable level. When she finally focused back on them, she looked even _more_ grave than before. "No. He is not sick. However, if you don't already know, it is not my place to tell you any more than that."

"But-" Fuery stammered, "but- you just said-"

"I'll be blunt: I'm not able to explain very much of what happened last night- we're still struggling to even find out much of it ourselves. I'm sure you'll learn more about it in the next few days, but, for now, all I can tell you is that the reason I brought you all here is that Mr. Hughes and Mr. Mustang were involved in an incident last night. " She paused uncertainly, averting her eyes to the scratched stones underneath their feet, eyes going distant with the memory of it. "They appear to entirely blameless in what happened... this whole affair is tragic and almost unbelievable..."

She trailed off absently for a moment then, her frown growing even deeper, and the look on her face in that moment made Riza's worry eclipse her confusion. God, what on earth had _happened?_ What had her so troubled by all of this? What the _hell_ had happened to Roy and Hughes?

But then, abruptly shaking her head as if to clear it, McGonagall seemed to forcefully abandon that previous line of thought, instead tugging herself vehemently right back on track and this time, refusing to allow herself to get off. "Excuse me. What I mean to say is, The point of why I brought you all here is that both Mr. Hughes and Mr. Mustang were injured last night. Mr. Mustang is actually being seen to at St. Mungo's as we speak, but Mr. Hughes is here. Considering you are all close friends, I thought it best that you all know as soon as possible."

Riza all but gaped.

Once again, she wasn't the only one.

What? _What?_

They were _hurt?_! And, evidently badly, if it was serious enough to make McGonagall look like that, if Roy had had to be taken to St. Mungo's, and- and something to do with Kimbley- but _how?_ Last she'd seen them, Roy had been genially asking to switch patrol shifts with her, that he wanted to cover her afternoon duties so she could cover his evening ones, while Maes had been dozing lazily on a bench nearby. They'd been _fine_ not even twenty four hours ago, but now- now Hughes was here, hurt, and Roy was in the _hospital?_

"Professor- Professor, what's-"

"What do you mean, Roy's at St. Mungo's? Can we see him? Professor-"

"Kimbley did this?! He's-"

McGonagall held up a hand, forestalling their panicked questions with nothing more than that and a shake of her head. "They're both going to be all right. Beyond that, I really can't explain anything more to you at the present time. As I said, Mr. Mustang isn't currently even here, I'm actually on my way to check up on him right now- but if you want to see Mr. Hughes, you're more than welcome. You'll got a better explanation as soon as we have one ourselves. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

And then, without one clarifying word more, she nodded gravely to them all, then turned and walked briskly away.

Riza raised a hand, already reaching out, but she was gone and they were left behind without a second thought. She blinked, almost slackjawed with shock as she stared after their professor, then back around at their group, who all seemed equally as shocked and troubled as she was, if not even _more_ so. She gaped after her, stricken and almost horrified, but McGonagall was already too far away to be pulled back- and already, Riza had realized that getting answers out of her was going to be nigh on impossible.

All that was in their power at this moment was Hughes.

So, with a deep, steadying breath, Riza nodded around at all of her almost panicking friends, and led the way into the hospital wing.

This late in the year, with Quidditch practices over and in the lull for studying just before final exams, the place was almost deserted of patients. There was a first or second year by the door with what looked to be an unfortunate case of the Mumblemumps, an older student on the other side of the room scratching annoyedly at a bandage on his cheek with one hand while turning the pages of his textbook with the other, yet besides them, the beds were all completely empty.

Empty, save for one at the very back of the room with the curtains drawn.

Riza squared her shoulders, focused straight ahead, and marched forwards.

She was not alone. Nor was she the fastest.

Her four friends stormed on ahead, Havoc and Breda in the lead to reach the almost hidden bed first. Together, in almost perfect unison, they reached it and lunged to toss the curtains out of their way, Fuery exclaiming, "Maes-!"

And the sight that was waiting for them, drove them all to a sudden, sharp halt.

They had, indeed, found Maes.

And, while Riza was horribly unsure just what exactly she had been expecting- she knew that this was not it.

The Hufflepuff was sitting awkwardly in bed, curled around himself as much as he could yet with one long leg stretched out in such a way it could only have been broken. Broken _badly._ But his other knee was pulled up tight and close to his chest, both arms wrapped so desperately and tightly around it his knuckles were squeezed white, fingers clenching and twisting into the pajama shirt so frantically it was as if he was trying- and failing- to hold himself together, because he was already in the process of falling apart.

And Riza wouldn't honestly have been too surprised if he _did,_ right then and there- because he looked _awful._

Awful in a way she wasn't even sure how to describe.

He was covered in- in what? God, she wasn't sure, so many were half-healing already or bandaged and distorted by smears of blood but it looked like... _bite marks?_ Yes- yes, that was what they were, wasn't it? All over his arms, fresh and bleeding and deep, on what little bit of his ankle and bare foot that they could see, deep and obviously _painful,_ even while his face and neck were strangely perfectly unblemished...

Yet the look on his face remained, somehow, the most horrible part of it all.

His head had been bowed slightly when they'd found him, matted and unkempt hair half obscuring his face but not at all hiding the horrified, stricken, _distraught_ expression etched into every inch of it. He was gasping, too, panting like an overheated dog, each breath short and shallow and forced and his frantic gaze staring at nothing cheeks damp and eyes blind as if whatever he was seeing was something far, far away from them all.

But when they all finally reached him, he gasped again. Harder, more miserable, more desperate than before. His head jerked up to stare.

The transformation on his face from stricken and lost, to sickened and _terrified,_ was so slow Riza could see it happen, and so abruptly painful she almost took a step back. He stared at them all, face slowly and miserably shifting from guilt to devastation, and he then sucked in one shocked, stuttering breath. Then another. Then a third.

And then, with one half-choked, miserable whimper, he threw himself into a very unprepared Riza's arms, and wailed.

_"I killed Roy!"_

* * *

And from there on out, Maes told them all everything.

 _Everything,_ everything.

It took him the first few minutes to calm some desperate corner of his mind to form coherent thought, and then another few minutes to fight past his own hysteria enough to form coherent sentences out of them. He was pretty sure most of the words he'd gasped out until then had been disconnected, borderline gibberish. He knew his friends were all confused and terrified and growing even more frightened by the minute. He knew he was sobbing all over Riza and didn't even have to see her face to know how uncomfortable she was, how worried she was about Roy, how much she wanted to both push him off and ask him what the hell had happened.

He knew this was all his _fault._

And still, for minutes on end, he could barely get out anything more than broken, near incomprehensible words, and broken, absolutely hysterical sobs.

Even when the explanations finally came to him, he wasn't sure they were any more sensible than anything he'd said thus far.

He forced them out anyway.

Each broken, splintering, desperate word, he forced out, without regard for the consequences it would bring. Because they all deserved to know, every last one of them- and after four years of keeping this secret it suddenly didn't even matter anymore. _Nothing_ mattered anymore, and nothing would ever again.

It didn't matter if they all abandoned him once they knew the truth.

It didn't matter at all.

"I'm a werewolf," he sobbed. "I'm a werewolf. A-and I-"

He broke off again, gasping and almost choking.

He'd...

_He'd..._

_"I attacked Roy!"_

Riza's hesitant, already awkward arms around him stiffened. The others around him, one by one, each one slow and delayed as the sheer shock of the statement slowly got through to them, stared in disbelief.

And, one by one, they all stepped back away from him.

Because he was a monster. Because all werewolves were monsters that should be put down like the rabid dogs that they were, the way Professor Grand had taught them since the summer Maes had gotten bitten. The way all werewolves had ever done was kill people and all they were good for was studying as a disgusting aberration, because they simply couldn't be good for anything else, because they weren't _human,_ and one by one, all the people who had once been his friends stepped back away from him, withdrawing from the monster they suddenly knew he was.

Just like he'd always feared they would.

Just like he'd always known they would.

"I didn't- I d-didn't want to," he begged, dropping an arm from around Riza to scrub it hopelessly across his cheek instead- but the Gryffindor translated it to mean he was letting her go, because she, too, abruptly stepped back to stare down at him. To look at him with new eyes and see him in a new light and realize who he really was-

And by the look on her face, be as properly _disgusted_ by who he really was.

Just like he'd always known he deserved.

His heart sunk, right into the pit of his stomach, and he almost felt it crack in two to be flooded from the inside out with toxic, miserable self-loathing. With guilt.

He let his arms fall back down to his lap, slowly and emptily, and then let his gaze drop after it.

He deserved all of this.

"...I didn't w-want this," he gasped finally, still desperately fighting the words past the lump in his throat. He had to say it. They had to _know!_ "I didn't mean for... for _any_ of it to happen. I told him to n-not- he wasn't even supposed to be there! Neither of us were! Kimbley dragged us out there, he tricked us and trapped us and he- he _hurt_ Roy! He tortured him then laughed in his face and- and that was m-my fault, too, I should've s-stopped him-"

"Hey... hey, Maes, slow-"

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way!" he cried, stumbling right over Jean because in some desperate ways he'd never even heard him at all. "I told Roy to leave! I told him, I _told him!_ I told him it wasn't safe and I'd hurt him but he didn't listen! I told him to run away, to leave me alone, to just- j-just _stop-_ why wouldn't he listen to me, why doesn't he ever _listen to me?!_ I knew this would happen, I told him f-four _years ago_ -"

"What are you talking about? Maes-"

"I tried to get him away from m-me, because I'm _dangerous,_ I hurt people, I knew this would happen- and Kimbley knew it, too, this is just what he wanted-" Maes choked off desperately again and buried his face in his hands, sucking in heavy, shuddering breaths over and over, head reeling and stomach knotting until he almost had to throw up. "I told Roy to g-go, I told him to run but he _wouldn't,_ s-so I told him- I said if I got free he'd have to stop me- why didn't he leave?! Why, _why_ didn't he- fuck you, Roy, you stupid, stupid, _idiot,_ w-why did you- l-let me- I'm s-so sorry..."

He _remembered_ Roy... just standing there... his best friend just looking at him and spreading his arms defenselessly and-

And told him that he loved him and forgave him.

He'd said _I love you_ and _I forgive you,_ then sat down and shut his eyes and waited to be mauled.

He hated Roy. He hated him, he hated him, he _hated_ him. How could he do this to him?! Roy had known what would happen, Maes had _warned him,_ Maes had begged him to go- why had Roy just sat down to let him do this?! How _could he?!_

_How could I do this to him?_

"But... but, Hughes..."

He barely even heard Riza's stammer. The words only stumbled through his ears after a few seconds, belated and confusing through the frantic buzz in his head, barely able to be understood at all, but he heard them. Swallowing hard again, he sniffed, rubbing a hand over his cheeks before dragging his face up to stare at her again, blinking the tears out of his eyes.

Riza was still so clearly shocked, still fallen back with the others, seemingly being absolutely sure not to even risk touching him. "But, Hughes, Professor McGonagall said Roy would be fine! She just told us- you couldn't have k- killed him, Hughes, she just spoke with us and said he was okay!"

He shook his head miserably, rubbing his hand across his cheeks again. McGonagall had said that? McGonagall wouldn't lie about this, she'd always tried to support them, but...

But there'd been so much blood...

"I... I hurt... I t-tried to _bite_ him," he gasped out at last, forcing his hands back down to his lap to face them all again, desperate and sick and miserable as it made him feel. "I attacked him... t-they- the professors stopped me right after, t-they got me off him- I don't know what happened after that. I d-don't know if they stopped me in time... it doesn't matter. I already infected him. I- it's too _late._ I either ruined his life or killed him and I- I promise I didn't want to, I didn't have a choice, I wanted him to go- I couldn't s-stop-... oh my god, I ruined my best friend- it's m-my fault, they, they're gonna take my wand, they'll expel me and put me in Azkaban and I deserve it, I hurt Roy and it's all my fault, I, I-"

He choked off again, becoming too desperate for words, again gasping so hard he couldn't speak, but it didn't matter. He'd said all he could've ever about what had happened that night, and he knew he deserved every bit of what was to come and couldn't bring himself to care.

They were going to kick him out of school and snap his wand and leave him in Azkaban and it was what he deserved. He'd attacked an innocent person. He'd attacked his best _friend_ and if he was even still alive he'd ruined his life. He'd been so afraid of his secret coming out for years, ever since he'd been bitten it'd been what he feared most, but that was selfish, wasn't it? He should've always been afraid of _this,_ of hurting someone else, because that was all that mattered and now it had happened and he couldn't take it back.

It was his fault. It was his fault. This was all his fault. Roy was never going to want to see him again if he was even alive and Maes could never ask him to change his mind. He could never ask for any of the others to ever forgive him. He deserved them all to be standing back and staring at him like that, faces uncertain crosses between shock and fear, all of them refusing to touch him, and that was good, they _should,_ because he was dangerous and bad and-

And Azkaban was too good for him. Grand was right, Kimbley was right, they were all _right._ He should've been put down like a rabid dog the day he'd been bitten.

At least Roy would've been better off for it.

Out of the corner of his eye more than anything else, Maes glimpsed the door to the hospital wing swinging open and a great big yellow blur striding in. His glasses were gone, shattered somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, but he couldn't help but look towards the blur anyway- and by the reaction of all his friends... former friends... around him, it was somebody important. He rubbed his eyes again, sniffling, and tried to squint- but the others had moved to block him and spoken up before he could even see who it was.

"Hohenheim! Hohenheim, it wasn't his fault!"

"Leave him alone, he didn't do anything wrong! It was all Kimbley; you can't punish him for that!"

"He didn't mean to hurt Roy! He said he wouldn't have if he had a choice, you have to know that, Professor, this isn't his fault!"

"We won't let you take him! Leave him alone! Leave him _alone!"_

Maes, halfway through another desperate sort of gasp, panic clawing up his throat and still tearing him apart from the inside out, froze.

...What?

Jean threw his arms out, joining with the others to stand in a ragtag sort of impenetrable wall while Riza suddenly was moving forward to confront the headmaster- all but _pushing_ the man back! "It's not his fault, Headmaster!" she cried- no, _demanded_ it, harsh and unwavering even before the most powerful wizard in the school. "He didn't do anything wrong and you can't blame him for it! He'd never mean to hurt Roy, this is all on Kimbley- just ask him, sir! You can't-"

"Erm-" Hoheheim stammered, pushing his glasses further up his nose, "all of you, I-"

"You have to leave us alone! He didn't do this!" Jean exclaimed, cried, _shouted_ , lunging forward to join her in a forming wall around his bed. "We'll vouch for him! _This isn't his f-"_

"You can't blame-"

 _"Children!"_ Hohenheim finally _boomed-_ so loud and dominating and sudden that Maes flinched in his bed, and suddenly found his hands moving back to cover his face again.

His friends did not get overrun into silence, but their headmaster did not let that stop him, either."Children, please! Mr. Hughes is not being expelled or punished in any way! Now, if you would- please _calm down!_ "

"-so don't hurt him f-... huh?"

Hohenheim looked around at them all for several moments, seemingly a cross between confused and vaguely amused, like this was all somehow funny or perhaps even a joke to him. He laughed a little, gesturing as if for them all to stand down, and smiled even more gently, in a peculiar sort of way that without his glasses, Maes wasn't even sure he really saw. "We have already determined that neither Roy nor Maes has any culpability in what happened last night. It's never been any question that they are victims in this case, and not to be blamed or held responsible for what happened in any way."

Maes, for the second time in as many minutes, gaped.

Once again, he wasn't the only one, either.

His friends, former friends, _whatever_ they were, stopped in their tracks. They looked around uncertainly at each other, then back to Hohenheim. The strange sort of guard they'd formed around him began to falter, a few even looking as if they were about to speak several times but failing.

Maes swallowed dryly, panic and uncertainty collecting in this throat again, like nervous butterflies in his stomach.

So it was up to him, then.

"...B-but-," he fumbled weakly. "But. I. ...that's... I- hurt Roy," he repeated lamely, voice growing ever weaker by the word.

The headmaster sighed deeply, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose again. "We have already spoken with several witnesses concerning last night... including a certain centaur," he went on, this time with an almost wink. It was entirely too light-hearted and easygoing to even filter through Maes' sickened guilt and terror at all. "We're still piecing everything all together, but it seems quite apparent that you were innocent in it, Maes. Even little Augustus and Catherine confirm it."

Maes started, his eyes widening. "Augustus and..." The others around him were already turning to look at him, obviously confused by something they'd had no prior knowledge about, but the words pulled back memories that felt already dusted in cobwebs after have many horrible events had taken place that night. Shakily, he pushed himself forward, rubbing a trembling hand across his wet face again and trying to blink his wet vision clear. "You found them? Are they okay? Kimbley- Kimbley said he didn't hurt them, but..."

Hohenheim nodded again, though this time, his smile finally started to fade, whatever positivity that always seemed to cling to the headmaster like a shroud at last withering away. "It was actually luck, more than anything else, if you can believe it. A house elf found Augustus in a spare classroom near the Astronomy Tower around dawn this morning. We then did bed checks for other missing students, which led to a castle-wide search for Catherine... she ended up being found by a ghost in a broom closet on the other side of the castle. They were both unconscious and restrained, but relatively unhurt." A slow, grimacing sort of frown creased its way into place. "It appears Kimbley drugged them both with Sleeping Draughts."

Maes swallowed, a sense of unease settling over him as he sunk slowly back against the bed. He thought back to the two first years again, how worried they'd been upon realizing that Kimbley must have attacked them, how part of him had feared for the very worst even after that psychopath had promised he hadn't hurt them... but- but they were okay? Probably upset, probably traumatized, but- they were _okay?_

Taking in another shuddering breath, Maes lowered his eyes to his lap, struggling to force himself to calm again. Yes. They were okay. No matter what happened, no matter how Roy had been hurt- at least those two had made it out alive. They'd been found in time. They hadn't been hurt for Kimbley's feud against them. They...

"T-that's... that's something," he mumbled finally, wiping his eyes again. "That's good."

Hohenheim bowed his head. "Yes. They will both be fine."

There was a calming sort of moment of silence. Some of the thick, poisoned tension in the air began to filter away, Maes, at least, finding himself breathing easier, and it even seemed as if his friends- as confused and stricken by all of this as they were- were, too.

Hohenheim cleared his throat after a pause, smiling a little again, seeming as if trying to press the positive turn this had taken just a little more. "And, so will both you and Roy, Maes- you'll both be fine as well! So I'm afraid that, even if we _were_ to blame you, it seems that there is very little to punish you on in the first place."

"But-" and then his panic was back all over again, lurching in his chest like it had never left at all. The shadows of Augustus and Catherine faded, torn and drifting apart into nothing, because over them was _Roy._ Roy, screaming, Roy, bleeding, Roy torn apart into shreds, Roy, _gone-_

"B-but- no, that's-" He shook his head, both bewildered and stunned. His stomach clenched desperately all over again. "I hurt Roy! I gave him- I _i-infected-"_

Hohenheim, however, shook his head, gently moving Riza aside enough for him to actually approach him., sitting right on the side of his bed to rest a calming hand on his good knee and look him right in the eye. "Saliva, my boy- the lycanthrope infection is only transmittable by saliva. You did not bite Roy. Yes, you were _going_ to, and you did wound him, but you hadn't yet bitten him, and without the transmission of bodily fluids, the infection can not spread. This is actually one of the reasons we took him to St. Mungo's... we wanted to be absolutely positive, Maes- and this is actually part of what I came to tell you. Nothing was spread to Roy: we've confirmed it now. He remains fully human."

Maes blinked dumbly.

_He... he what?_

Roy was...

Roy was still human?

Roy was...

He- _hadn't_ bitten Roy?

"But... But I..."

And suddenly, he was lost, and even more lightheaded than he was lost.. He blinked down at his heavily scarred, bite-ridden hands and found himself swaying slightly, nearly dizzy with the shock of it. "Y-you... were there... it w-was you, you got me away from Roy, Professor, but- but he was- b-bleeding- I saw him, he was bleeding so much-"

Hohenheim smiled gently again. "We've double checked, just to make sure. None of the infection spread to Roy. He's going to be fine... both of you are."

He shook his head slowly, disbelieving and sick even as his mind already started to reel, sending him to dizzying heights so fast it was suddenly hard to breathe again. He pressed a shaking hand to his chest, struggling for air and sanity, and for several moments found it almost impossible to think or breathe at all.

There's been so much blood... he'd woken up _covered_ in it... god, he remembered his own hand- _claws-_ tearing into his best friend- he remembered the look on his face, he remembered the way he'd sprawled helplessly on the ground-

He remembered how he'd cried out with the pain of it and if it hadn't been for Hohenheim, he remembered that he would've torn straight through him all over again.

And now he was supposed to believe that Roy was going to be fine?

That he was _okay?_

That nothing was going to happen to him because he wasn't being blamed, even after what he'd done?

That _Roy was okay?_

No... no, it just wasn't possible. It _couldn't_ be. It wasn't _true!_ Not after everything he'd seen that night, not after everything that he'd done _,_ not- he'd torn his own best friend apart! He'd clawed through his chest and nearly killed him!

But... Hohenheim said he was supposed to be fine? Hohenheim said-

Some small part of Maes just barely heard the headmaster ask if he was okay. He felt himself nod dazedly, was even pretty sure he'd mumbled something, trying to appease him, but he didn't feel okay. He didn't feel okay at all. He felt dizzy and trembling and like he was about to pass out and that everything being told to him was a lie. He felt cold and lost and guiltridden and betrayed and- and like there was something horribly, terribly _wrong_ with him.

Wasn't there? Didn't there have to be? He'd torn his best friend apart- he was responsible for this, he'd, he'd-

Again it was only some very small of Maes that was aware of the people around him moving, talking quietly amongst themselves, their words low and too troubled for him to make out but they were _there_ and they weren't leaving. He felt some of them draw closer, surrounding him, and he flinched again, but- that was all. They didn't hurt him, they didn't even touch him, they just looked at hm, and he didn't understand why.

They weren't leaving.

They were still there.

And hell, it had been _four years_ , now, but Maes had come to rely on Roy. The Slytherin had always showed up like a rash or a mosquito, refusing to ever be shooed away no matter how hard Maes tried, never once allowing him to suffer through the transformation, the illness before it, or the injuries after it, alone. He'd been there, so consistently and without failure, until Maes had finally found himself relying on him to the point where he couldn't be alone anymore. It was frightening. It was unbearable. It was _scary_ and as selfish as it was, that had been one of the most terrifying parts of all of this- realizing that his secret was out now, and Roy had been hurt, and Roy had been hurt by _him_ \- the fear that that was it, and he really _was_ going to be alone from now on. That he was alone and he deserved it.

But... he wasn't alone.

He sucked in several stilted, shuddering breaths, heaving gasps in through chattering teeth and pressing his face hard into the pillow, because suddenly he was lying down, curled around himself again, grasping at the sheets. It took another few moments to steady himself, head still reeling and dizzy- but when he finally blinked and could see again, it was just to find the concerned faces of his- his _friends-_ still all around.

Another half-sob caught in his throat, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to flinch back. He didn't.

"W-why..." he broke off, swallowing hard, then tried again. "Why are you all still here? Aren't you angry? Why aren't you- you-... why didn't you leave? "

They all looked at each other, so clearly uncomfortable and out of sorts and unsure if they belonged but- but still _there._ "I... I guess we're a bit... overwhelmed," Jean ventured cautiously, withdrawing back to sit on the edge of the nearest bed. "I mean- yeah, we're pretty surprised. At least, I know I am, but... all this was Kimbley's fault."

The others all nodded slightly, glancing around at each other and looking worried but not hostile. Heymans cleared his throat after a moment, joining his friend on the bed, unsure as all of the others yet at least trying for a weak smile. "Hohenheim told said he wanted to talk to you about something but that he'd, er, just... come back later." He coughed a little, as if uncomfortable. "But, uh, he also said they were working on getting your mum here, though it could take a couple days..."

Maes nodded again, trying not to sniffle as he rubbed a hand across his damp cheek again. He got that much, at least. His mum was a Muggle, and it was hard getting Muggles to Hogwarts. But if they were trying, that alone was something worth being grateful for. "Thanks," he mumbled, voice slightly thick, and finally felt calm enough to start to push himself up again.

He tried very hard not to look at the disgusting, abhorrent, _wrong_ bite marks lining up and down his scarred, bleeding arms.

"And that they're trying to get Roy back to the school, too," Riza added suddenly, a new sort of warmth or, perhaps even hope, infusing her voice. "Tomorrow. Maybe even tonight, he said!"

Maes made himself nod again, even though those words barely made it through his haze. Roy was coming back, too... he'd be able to see him soon... and the only reason Roy could come back here tonight was if he was okay, right? They wouldn't be sending him back to Hogwarts if it wasn't safe. And if Roy was okay... if he'd be able to see that for himself, soon...

He swallowed frantically, another upset cry trying to form in his throat. Didn't matter. It didn't change anything in the slightest.

All he'd see, if they brought his best friend back here, was how badly he'd hurt Roy.

An awkward silence formed. The others started shifting uncomfortably, glancing around at each other and seeming unsure. Maes picked at the sheets, a lump in his throat that he couldn't quite swallow, and once again found himself unable to drag his gaze up to face them.

"So..." Jean said at last, "so, um... Roy's known about this, then? This whole time?"

Maes wasn't sure if he'd heard that hint of accusation in the question or if he'd imagined it, but either way, it stung. Either way, it was deserved. He nodded down to his knee, not able to force himself to so much as look up at them, and he accepted the way guilt and misery grew into a lead ball in his stomach, how it made him feel sick, how he almost wanted to throw up. "I... s-sort of," he coughed hoarsely. "He didn't know at first, he only figured it out at the end of third year... I got bit the summer before."

There was another uncertain silence. Just out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed them all fidgeting and looking to each other uncomfortably. They very obviously did not know what to say, or how on earth they were supposed to handle him now.

"...That's why you quit the Quidditch team, isn't it?"

Maes blinked in surprise, finally allowing the words to drag his face up out of his knee to look to the previously so silent Vato. He nodded weakly, but when he opened his mouth to speak something primal and panicked suddenly lodged itself in his chest and he stared right back down again, heart stuttering like a scratched record and skin suddenly crawling with a cold sweat.. "I, u-um, I... I g-get sick a lot. I wouldn't be able to keep up with the practice schedule. Professor Sprout said she was willing to work with me but, I just- I didn't think it'd be fair to everyone else on the team."

There was another uncertain, awkward silence, filled with uncomfortable fidgeting and many averted gazes. Maes, too, brought his eyes back down to himself again.

"I didn't even want Roy to know," he finally admitted, just unable to stand the silence. "I know how it looks, but he just figured it out all on his own and I made him promise not to say anything. I'm- I'm sorry, I just- I didn't want anyone to know. It was nothing about you, it w-was... was _everyone."_

His friends looked even more uncomfortable at that, not seeming sure how to react, but it was to the point that it was all simply beyond what Maes could handle. He still felt as if he was coming apart at the seams and four years of hiding who he was could not be dismantled in five minutes of his friends staring at him like they didn't know how to talk or even see him but- but at least not _shunning_ him. He swallowed hard again, leaning his cheek against his knee and again doing everything he could to stare anywhere but at them. "I'm sorry, I- I can't talk about this now. I need to talk to Roy. I'm sorry."

There was another uncomfortable, shared glance between them all, followed by a few nods- then nothing more than that. Maes hesitated again, unable to find the words, knowing he wanted to tell them they could go, to leave him alone- but he just couldn't say it.

A few fidgeted again.

Maes, to his eternal embarrassment and shame, found that it really was beyond him to so much as look around at them. At his _friends._ Every time he tried to so much as drag his eyes off the sheets tucked around him it felt like a disembodied, angry fist punched his head right back down again, gaze on his leg like an inescapable magnet pulled i6 there, because he _could not._

He _couldn't._

He knew, logically, that the worst was already dead and gone. It was quite evident that his friends had decided they were sticking with him, even through this. He _knew_ that, but- but god, no part of him believed it. He knew if he met their eyes it wouldn't be to horror or anger, hatred or inhuman _disgust,_ but after so long of this very moment being the worst of his worse nightmares-

Maes sucked in another trembling breath, clenching his jaw to try and stop his teeth from chattering, and hugged his knee just a little closer to himself to more securely hide his head. This was just all so foreign... so strange... so _wrong._ He'd never had this before. He'd never been able to wake up the day after his transformation and just- be surrounded by people who cared about him.

In the very beginning, sometimes Professor Sprout had been there. Other times Professor McGonagall- once, he remembered, even Hohenheim had shown up with a smile on his face to try and keep him company for the entire day. Once Roy had found out, his best friend had shown up every month without fail... even that winter when he'd had the flu, he remembered with a fond, anguished sort of smile, and wound up out cold in the bed right next to Maes (and arguably worse off than him).

He had never, however, woken up to be surrounded by his _friends._ A whole group of people who evidently knew the truth about him, and now knew that he had nearly killed Roy- _he'd woken up and there was so much blood the blood was everywhere all over his hands on his face in his_ _ **mouth**_

And yet, his friends seemed not to care.

It was too foreign for him to understand, and at this point, truly just too much for him to even be able to handle.

He left his face pressed into his knee, gasping shallowly and sickly, and for a heartbeat, just wanted everyone to go.

The horrible silence around him continued.

And then, just as Maes had finally worked up enough desperate bits of courage to ask to be left alone, Riza sat primly down in the nearest chair. She settled her bag on her lap. She dug into it for a moment, brow furrowing in concentration, then finally withdrew a textbook, in what was very obviously a silent declaration of the intent to stay.

Maes shivered again, fingers clutching even tighter at this blankets.

"You don't have to," he said quietly. He still could not make himself actually lift his head to look them in the eyes.

Riza paused in her flipping through the book, carefully arcing one eyebrow.

He curled around himself a little more, struggling to fumble his way through it, finding the meager strength only as he spoke. "Look, Roy's- he's not gonna be here for a long time. Maybe not even until tomorrow. You've... got no reason to stay."

His friends around him fidgeted uncomfortably again.

Then, with a slight cough, Riza looked back down at her textbook, and continued flipping through the pages. "Correct," she said steadily. "Roy most likely will not be here for hours. However- though I speak only for myself- I am not here only to see Roy."

There was another thick silence.

Kain was the first to sit down after Riza, hesitantly propping himself on the very corner of the end of his bed, so lightly Maes barely felt the jostle of it. He looked nervous and unsure of himself, but very sure of what he was doing, and very comfortable sitting that close to Maes. Then next was Jean, plopping himself down in the nearest free chair, folding his hands in his lap and making a show of settling right in for the long haul. Then the bed next to him was claimed, turned into a couch of sorts for his friends, and... there they were.

There they all were.

Committed to staying with him for no other reason than they wanted to.

"Well," Riza announced calmly, clearing her throat. "If we are going to stay until Madam Pomfrey kicks us out, we might as well make ourselves useful. Our NEWTs are still in three weeks, everybody- I can quiz anyone on Transfiguration who wants it." She paused, tapping her chin, then pointed a long, steady finger at Maes. "Except for you, Hughes. You look like you could use some rest, and besides, Madam Pomfrey'll probably throw us out if we keep you up."

Then, without any further ado, and _with_ a steady clearing of her throat and tap of her wand, she started to read aloud.

"Where do Vanished Objects go? Answerable by anyone taking NEWT-level Transfiguration. Where do Vanished Objects go?"

Vato coughed slightly, moving to sit a little more neatly on the edge of the bed. "Into non-being, which is to say, everything."

"Correct. ...textbook definition, in fact."

Jean groaned, or perhaps it was almost a whine, thumping his head back dramatically with a miserable sort of sigh. "Yeah, as usual, as usual- I bet he can quote the whole chapter on it word for word if you asked him. Come on, it's not fair! He should only get to answer if nobody else gets it!"

"Wha- come on, Jean, there's no reward for getting it right, it's just a study group-"

"But it's not helpful if he answers _everything-"_

"Next question: why is conjuration considered more advanced than vanishment?"

"Wait, wait- I know this one, I _know_ it- Vato, shut up! Ummm..."

Maes closed his eyes tightly, listening on to the sound of his friends studying around him, and buried his face back down in his knee for one last shuddering, trembling breath.

He remembered Roy, studying aloud with him in the Forbidden Forest. Reading his notes aloud just to keep him company. He remembered blinking at him through the bars of his cage and seeing his best friend slumped and reading and smiling to him, always trying, always speaking, in the vain hope that he wouldn't feel quite so alone even when there was nothing else at all that he could do for him.

Studying with him on one of the worst nights of his life, in the slim hope that some part of that was enough to help him.

And suddenly, acutely, just like that, sitting there in the hospital wing battered and almost in pieces and yet surrounded by friends, he wasn't so alone anymore.

He closed his eyes, because trying to participate was still just a little bit beyond him still, and let himself listen with each heaving breath, doing all he could to block out the rest of the world.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Hello! Wait a sec! Did you read chapter 6? I just posted that a couple minutes ago! Make sure you read chapter 6! This is part two of today's update!
> 
> See you on Sunday for the last update! Thanks for reading!

Despite Hohenheim's words that he had more he wanted to talk about with Maes, the headmaster did not make another appearance for the rest of the day. Neither did many others. From what little Maes overheard, Ministry aurors had wanted to talk to him about what had happened, but Madam Pomfrey had put her foot down, threatening to have Hohenheim expel them from the premises if they did not agree to wait at least until tomorrow.

He did not end up being spoken to by any Ministry aurors.

Speaking of Madam Pomfrey, Maes also suspected the medi-witch had mixed a Potion for Dreamless Sleep into that juice she'd kept insisting he drink, because when the nurse came to shoo his friends out after a while, he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He barely even remembered seeing them leave or their sincerely meant promise to come back tomorrow, and, worse than that, wasn't sure if he even remembered anything beyond that _at all_ before he passed out like the dead into the pillow.

This, at least, was not unusual- even as dreadful and abnormal and horrible as the rest of this day was. Even normally, Maes had found himself often having to sleep for a while after his transformation. He couldn't sleep as a werewolf, even when Roy was with him, and Roy usually tended to not dare sleeping himself, so they usually ended up crashing in his room for most of the day if they could afford it. Today, Maes had the added weight of his injuries to contend with... and they really weren't going easy on him. Even with all the bite marks to contend with- another fact of life he was just used to, by now- Madam Pomfrey had also had to simply vanish the bones in his leg, forgoing trying to mend whatever mess the transformation had turned them into, and told him she was going to regrow them from scratch.

He was trying not to think about how much it already hurt. The nap he'd taken that afternoon had been a more than welcome escape from it, and he already knew that that particular injury's healing was far from being finished. The worst probably wasn't even over yet.

However, he could not sleep forever.

It was voices that woke him up, soft, muted voices that niggled so gently at his consciousness, just barely enough to squint his eyes open to blink into the dim, new darkness of the hospital wing. He knew, already just from lying there, that it was night again. That he was alone again.

An exhausted, resigned sort of yawn started to crack through his jaw. He pressed his face into the warmth of his pillow for a moment, blinking exhaustedly into the dark, then just shook his head to himself, already curling a little more under his blankets. The pain was exhausting, and still too damn prevalent to ignore, but, more than that, Roy still wasn't here. He was alone, and if he was alone, there was nothing to force himself to stay awake _for._

He closed his eyes through another yawn, already starting to resettle himself back into his bed. He could already feel the warmth of sleep crawling over him again, and he welcomed it- even relished it- with open arms.

It was the voices that stopped him.

"It's absolutely preposterous."

"I agree with you."

"If that boy is not charged under the full extent of your laws- that is what your intentions are, I hope? You're not going to blame this all on the werewolf, are you?"

"It's... a complicated situation, Madam-"

_"Complicated?"_

Maes stiffened abruptly, fist clenching in the sheets again, and all last vestiges of sleep completely and utterly gone.

By the sound of it...

Professor McGonagall and Madam Christmas.

He held his breath, not even daring to move, instead just squinting to try and watch the shadows flit around the room through the curtain drawn around his bed. It looked like McGonagall was sitting on a bed across the room while Roy's aunt was pacing, upset by whatever was being discussed.

He doubted he could blame her.

McGonagall cleared her throat tartly. "As the headmaster told you, they're still investigating-"

"Roy and Maes told you everything that you need to know!" Christmas snapped, cutting her off with a sort of bite to her voice that made even Maes flinch. "Especially considering that other boy fled the scene- _especially_ knowing all that he's done to my son here, that none of you _ever_ did anything to stop..."

There was another brief silence. Christmas continued to pace, seeming unable to sit or stand still, whereas McGonagall did not even move an inch.

"I am on your side, here," the professor said finally. It was almost... reluctantly, her voice sedate now, softly weighed down with the pallor of unhappiness. "As is the headmaster, although that stays between you and me. But there are a number of extenuating circumstances.

Roy's aunt rounded around on McGonagall again, such a fierce and _threatening_ figure even when it was just a shadow through a curtain Maes found himself pulling back. "That- that _boy,"_ she spat, like even that word was too good for him, "used an Unforgivable Curse on my son. He was hoping at least either him or Maes would die last night, and it seems they were both scarred for life. Please, enlighten me, Professor. What _extenuating circumstances_ could there possibly be for torture and attempted murder?"

Again, there was another short, uncomfortable silence.

"As I said," McGonagall coughed quietly, "I am on your side. But Horace has spoken up that he just has some... misgivings."

Maes stiffened.

Misgivings... misgivings about- Kimbley being responsible?

And if they were doubting Kimbley's culpability, then the only one left to blame was...

Maes suddenly found himself feeling very sick, and very, very small, and he curled himself up into an even tinier ball.

There was a pause in the movement of the shadows through the curtain, the professor remaining stock still while Roy's aunt suddenly froze herself, very still, like all the anger roiling quietly under her voice was being reigned in with a great effort. "Horace," she murmured coldly. " _...Slughorn,_ you mean."

It was clearly not a question.

It was also clearly not welcoming.

Even through the curtains, he could see McGonagall flinch a little. "I can see Mr. Mustang has spoken to you about him."

Christmas laughed again, short and quick, like a whip, biting and almost mean. "Me? No," she snapped, turning her back to shake her head, voice all but vibrating with the constrained anger. "No, actually. Roy refused to speak to me about it... I think he didn't want for me to worry. He never wants _anybody_ to worry about him, you know. But he did talk to his sisters about it, and I heard what he said. If you're going to- to allow that man to have _misgivings_ now- after all he _didn't_ do for Roy, you're going to let him derail this, too, you're going to-"

"Please, Madam, listen to me. All he asked for was a bit of time for a more thorough investigation. He's not blaming your son, he's just... not quite willing to blame Mr. Kimbley, either."

"Either he believes my son, or he doesn't. My son told you what happened last night. Maes will confirm every last bit of it if he hasn't already. The centaurs already have. What more evidence is he waiting for?!"

There was, again, a guarded, struggling silence. He could just glimpse McGonagall rub a hand tiredly across her eyes, seeming to be at an uncertain loss for words and yet just as unhappy about this as Christmas- even if not quite so vocally. It apparently took her a bit to find the right way to explain it, and even then, when she finally spoke, her words were still slow and reluctant, as if she wasn't sure she should be saying them at all but was even less sure about keeping silent.

"This, too, really needs to stay just between us, Madam. I'm not so sure anything will even come of it worth addressing at all... but- in any case, if you've overheard your son talking about him, then you... well." She coughed slightly, abruptly seeming very uncomfortable. "You know that he's not exactly Professor Slughorn's favorite student."

Christmas grunted, muttering something darkly that Maes couldn't quite hear. By McGonagall's slight flinch, he gathered it was something rather obscene. Or, quite possibly, even graphic.

Knowing her, it wouldn't have surprised him.

"Yes," McGonagall went on tartly, "well, when Mr. Mustang decided against joining the Slug Club last year, it seems to have rubbed my colleague the wrong way. And I'm sure you can imagine Mr. Hughes isn't exactly his favorite student, either."

Maes' face warmed miserably, and he shrunk under his blankets just a little more.

He wasn't. He really, really wasn't.

"And _why_ is he employed here, again?"

McGonagall sighed. "If you're going to ask us to dismiss every faculty member with the slightest prejudice against werewolves, I'm afraid we would find the school a bit short-staffed, Madame. Or severely so."

"Then perhaps you ought to-"

"My _point_ being," McGonagall stressed shortly, seeming to have no patience for the interruptions, "Mr. Mustang and Mr. Hughes are not his favorite students. Mr. Kimbley, however, is."

Christmas grunted something again. "Why am I surprised that that sycophant favors the worst of this school?"

There was another short silence. From through the curtain, Maes just barely saw the shadowy form of his professor raise a hand to rest her face in it, as if she was very, very tired.

"Madam," she said quietly at last, "you have to understand. Whatever your son has told you about Mr. Kimbley has been biased. All his negative interactions with him seemed to happen in his dormitory, or outside of class, or at the least when the teacher's back was turned. From the perspective of a professor, all we are able to see is what happens in front of us. And in front of us, Mr. Kimbley is impeccably well-behaved. His grades are perfect. He shows interest and understanding in all his classes. He's charming. He's respectful. Mr. Kimbley, in fact, has been in the Slug Club himself for years, and was actually Professor Slughorn's recommendation for prefect in your son's fifth year. It was only by my request that Mr. Mustang was chosen instead of him."

That was a dark, cold sort of silence.

"Professor McGonagall," Christmas said stiffly at last, "that charming, star student of yours nearly killed my son."

McGonagall bowed her head, in what was perhaps acknowledgement, but to Maes, somehow came across looking more like contrition."I... I know. And I heard Mr. Mustang's own account of what happened to him, his first year. It's why I believe him about all of this. All I'm doing is trying to provide some insight into why Professor Slughorn is more reluctant."

Christmas shook her head again, seeming darkly annoyed, but the professor was already pressing on. "I sincerely believe he is not doing this out of malice, Madam. I don't think he's even fully thought this through... we're all still a little in shock. Nothing this severe has happened here in decades..." She shook her head again, trailing off as seemingly lost in thought, then abruptly straightened up as if fight to bring herself back to the present. "Nevertheless. I think my colleague is only trying to save face. He'll relent when he's had time to give more thought the options, here."

"You mean he doesn't want to be embarrassed by the public revelation that one of the members of his little club is a psychopath."

"...You could put it that way, yes."

There was another moment of stillness, the discomfort and discontent so thick on the air it was almost hard to breathe through it.

Finally, McGonagall cleared her throat again. Through the curtains, Maes just managed to see her stand, moving across the room to place a careful hand on Roy's aunt's arm. "You don't have to worry. He's insistent on looking for alternative explanations for now, but the law is quite clear. Zolf Kimbley is seventeen years old, and used the Cruciatus Curse on a human being. He's an adult under wizarding law, and committed an offense that warrants an automatic life sentence in Azkaban. Unless Mr. Mustang and Mr. Hughes change their stories at some point, there is very little left to discuss."

Christmas continued to pace at first, steps heavy and loud, back and forth over the cold floor, turning briskly and sharply as if each move was her trying to pour out each and every one of her frustration and anger and hurt over last night. She breathed out a heavy, tense sigh, moving to drag a hand through her hair.

And then, she dropped limply down to set on a bed of her own, and buried her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry for the hostility," she mumbled. "I... you don't deserve this from me."

Maes stiffened in surprise.

Her voice was suddenly thick, more honest in a way that made her sound ten years younger- and so much more hurt than all of her bristly, prickly anger of before had let on. She _was_ hurt, he realized, underneath all that anger, all that hostility, she was a mother who's son was hurt, and she was angry, because her _son_ was _hurt._ He watched her rub a hand over her face again, shoulders slumped and the weight of defeat seeming to hang over her like a toxic cloud, that hurt emanating from her in waves so thick he flinched and curled up and suddenly wanting nothing more to have never seen it.

_His fault..._

"I know that you've been on Roy's side in all of this," she sighed. "Through the entire time he's been a student here. You've... really been invaluable to him."

McGonagall shook her head quietly. "It's unfortunate it came to that at all," she said, almost dismissively. "Our job is to support all of the students, not just some. Mr. Mustang and Mr. Hughes should never have been put in the situation of needing it in the first place."

"...perhaps. But, I know that my son would never have been as successful as he is now without your support. And for that, I truly can not thank you enough."

There was a slow, pregnant pause. Maes dared to curl up just a little bit tighter, pressing the sheets to his mouth to try and muffle the crack he'd just known was coming in to break his breaths.

Just when he thought he wasn't going to be able to quite manage it anymore, however- the door to the hospital wing creaked open.

This time, unlike this afternoon, Maes recognized the sound of it rather than being able to see it. He stayed down and still, burying himself in what little warmth he had, already resolving to try and block the rest out of it, because whatever it was, surely it wasn't any of his business- but his mind was changed, when both McGonagall and Roy's aunt rose, and were on the newcomers like moths to a flame.

"Here he is- finally..."

"I told you he was getting here tonight..."

And this time, it took all of Maes' self-control to keep himself lying still.

Roy?

He didn't dare move, didn't dare even twitch, but he kept his eyes open and squinted and the blur of shadows, watching them move- yes, it was more than one person at the door, he saw that now. It seemed to be a group, a group transporting _something,_ with McGonagall and Christmas moving to their sides, low words being exchanged that were far beyond Maes' ears...

But even in the dim darkness of the room, even with the curtain drawn, Maes was able to see as the group moved all the way to the empty bed nearest to him. Then, while desperately holding himself absolutely still and perfectly silent, he watched the silhouette of one quiet, motionless form be levitated up, floated carefully through the air, and settled right back down again, just feet away from him.

_Roy._

A few more words were exchanged, still too quiet for Maes to hear. Then the others, healers, probably, were moving back, speaking quietly amongst themselves for a moment before dispersing, moving either to Madam Pomfrey's office or out of the room entirely.

There was another few moments of silence. The two witches were left to stand over Roy, looking down to his best friend without motion or words.

Then, with a rough, thick clearing of her throat, Christmas leaned down and kissed her son's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow, Roy-boy," she said.

A heartbeat later, and she was gone, withdrawing in a silent flurry of robes and striding to the door without another word. McGonagall lingered for only a moment longer, simply watching him- and then she, too, had left without barely a sound.

For several seconds, Maes remained frozen. He muffled his breaths into his hands, staring hard into the darkness of the hospital wing, watching every shadow for even the slightest flicker of movement and waiting, for what, he didn't know, just _waiting..._

But when the silence dragged on, and it was never broken- finally, he could not stand it anymore, and broke it himself.

"Roy?" he called hoarsely, voice cracking in the otherwise stifling quiet. "Roy? Buddy? Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

Maes lay there for a few moments more, breaths stiff and tense, shivering even under the multiple layers of blankets. There was nothing from the other side of the curtain, not a whisper of a word or movement, so still and quiet Maes almost couldn't bring himself to break the moment.

 _Almost,_ being the operative word.

He shoved himself upright, not sure where his wand was so he just flung the curtain aside so roughly it nearly tore. "Roy!" he hissed again, leaning forwards desperately, squinting to try and piece the uncertain blurs together through in the darkness-

And there he was.

There his best friend was- and despite every twisted, miserable, anguished nightmare that had haunted him since the moment the moon had fallen, despite every last one of his very worst fears, despite the blood he'd woken up covered in-

He was alive and well.

Maes sagged forwards again, burying his face right into his hand all over again to try, and miserably fail, to stifle a sob of sheer relief.

He was okay.

He was _okay._

His best friend lay there, finally just inches away from him, fast asleep and flat on his back and so peaceful Maes almost wanted to cry. His washed out face was slack and pale, so white it was the color of milk save for the bruises, and then, even darker, the cuts that Maes remembered, both from his tumble down the hill and his fight against the troll. His arm seemed to be in a sling beneath the sheets, the same arm he remembered Roy being careful with after that same troll, but if Maes knew anything about magic all he'd need was a day or two for that to be good as new.

The rest of him, though...

Maes tensed guiltily, the toxic wave of memory stumbling over him so hard he nearly curled over with the grief of it.

Maes remembered how he'd hurt Roy. He remembered clawing viciously straight through his chest, paw dragging from his shoulder across his heart then all the way down to his hip. It was all but entirely obscured under the sheets, just a hint of bandages visible under his collar, but Maes knew very, very well how severe and unhealed those wounds still were. He knew just looking down at his own arms, at his own chest, at his own _body_ what happened to wounds from a werewolf's bite and claws.

They didn't close with magic.

They couldn't be smoothed away, eased, or calmed with a spell.

They _always_ scarred.

"Roy," he hissed again, torn and unsure of whether or not he _actually_ wanted to wake him or not. He started to reach a trembling hand across the space between them, aiming to draw the blankets back to see for himself, then found his hand faltering, heart sinking. "Roy, I..."

"He's not going to wake up."

Maes jumped so hard he nearly tumbled out of bed.

And, out of absolutely fucking nowhere, smiling genially and welcomingly and like everything about this was just absolutely fucking normal, Hohenheim all but melted straight out of the shadows of the room as if he'd been there this entire time.

Meanwhile, Maes' heart was pounding so hard it was all but trying to hammer straight out of his chest.

The headmaster raised a hand as if to calm him, smiling again, walking slowly forwards out from the corner of the room that Maes had been _damn sure_ was empty before. "I'm sorry, that sounds rather ominous; I suppose I ought to clarify- they spelled him asleep rather heavily, at St. Mungo's. You won't wake him up until morning."

Still gasping, almost trembling now, Maes pulled away, leaning exhaustedly back to his pillow and wiping a hand across his face, trying and failing horribly to calm down. "How- h-how long have you been there?" he gasped, wiping his face again. _God,_ he _hated_ it when the headmaster did that.

Somehow, Maes was entirely unsurprised when Hohenheim's response to this was, yet again, another mysterious and vague smile. "If you think you already know all there is to know about where you are, you might see only what you expect to, rather than opening your eyes to all the possibilities, and letting slip all of the potential that could've fallen just within your grasp."

Maes' heart hammered even harder, and for just one impossibly frustrated moment, he bit his tongue hard, trying to silence himself from snapping back out of his own exasperation. Oh. Great. What an answer, that was. Truly. What a helpful, actual genuine answer. He rubbed his eyes again, trying not to shiver, then suddenly found himself burying his cold hands back down in his blankets, decidedly off put, ill at ease, and with _completely_ no idea as to what exactly he was supposed to say.

The headmaster, at least, thankfully did not seem to be waiting for Maes to move the conversation along. When several seconds passed, Maes only managing to fill it with a thick, confused sort of silence, Hohenheim forewent conversation to instead cross the room fully, walking all but silently over to stand at Roy's side and gaze down at the Slytherin, his eyes utterly inscrutable. He was quiet for a few moments, simply watching him, saying nothing. He tapped his wand gently on Roy's head, for what purpose, Maes could not discern, muttered something, then let out a great sigh and lifted his head to smile at him again. "It's almost unbelievable what happened, isn't it?" he murmured. "Roy spends years learning how to be one of the few who can tame a werewolf... and Zolf nullifies all of that work with just one quick spell."

As tired and sore as Maes was, the cryptic words took a few moments to work their way through his head- but when they finally did, he found himself stiffening again, pressing himself back against his pillow and stomach twisting in some form of shock. "W-what? You... you knew Roy's an animagus?! This whole time, you _knew?!"_

Hoehnehim raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Maes over his glasses with such a pointedly amused look it made Maes feel about two inches tall. "You both tried to hide it, but you _are_ a werewolf, Maes. You had to know I was keeping an eye out during the full moon. That mysterious, strange, dark wolf could only crawl after you every night to turn into Roy in the morning so many times for me to put two and two together." He was quiet for another moment, continuing to gaze down at the Slytherin. The mischievous sort of amusement, so bright in his eyes before, quietly faded. "You don't need to worry. I have no reason to turn him in. Being an illegal animagus is far from the most scandalous occurrence I've smoothed over as headmaster... although I will admit it might be one of the most impressive."

Maes held himself quiet at first, still just unsure of what to say. Like always, whenever he'd ended up in conversation with Hohenheim, he couldn't quite tell what the headmaster really was trying to say and how much was truly safe for him to tell. When the headmaster didn't press the point, he tentatively decided it was worth it to test the waters, here, at least a little bit. For Roy's sake, if not for his own. "Then, um... if you know what Kimbley did to him, I mean..." he ventured cautiously , an almost whisper in the darkness, "if you know how he stopped him from transforming, then... can you fix it? Because, Roy didn't know how..."

The headmaster offered him a small, slight smile, again sheathing his wand to turn and sit on the side of Roy's bed in a way that made Maes at least vaguely uncomfortable. "Yes. We can. However, I believe Minerva has decided not to lift the curse, or to teach him how to lift it himself, until after he has fully recovered. Transforming with his current injuries could be... problematic."

Maes hesitated, glancing over the prone form of his best friend again. He considered the deep wound through his chest, then the idea of Roy trying to transform with it... then shuddered violently.

Well, that much, at least, he could agree with.

But this, too, was good news. Wasn't it? One more thing that Kimbley had tried to do to him, healed into nothing. One more crime he'd tried to commit, one more offense against his best friend that had settled itself onto the list of things that were unpardonable, completely and wholly fixed. A tired sort of smile was suddenly worming it's way onto his face and Maes abruptly found himself sagging backwards again, the uncomfortable tension in his chest unfurling another notch. He still wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say, what was safe to say, abut now, as tired and now relaxed as he already was, it was pretty easy to decide to just stay quiet.

Until the headmaster, with another slight, mischievous sort of smile, looked back up at him. "Are you feeling better, then, Maes?" he asked, shifting around to face him fully.

"...ah... yes, sir?"

He smiled slightly again. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." He shuffled around in his pockets for a moment, brow furrowing, then finally leaned forward to hand his prize to him. "I believe this belongs to you?"

Maes blinked, stiffening up in bed with the sudden, surprised sort of warmth that filtered happily right through his chest. His glasses!

"I- yes, sir," he said again, enthusiastically, this time, barely remembering to keep his voice low for Roy's sake as he gratefully reached out, fingers folding around the frames like they were an old friend "How did you even get these? I thought they broke in the forest!"

Hohenheim shook his head a little, returning to his pockets for a second time to search for something else until he finally withdrew again, this time with a dark gold and black scarf that, too, was very familiar. "They did, I believe. These were actually retrieved from your dormitory by Kain Fuery. I ran into him on my way down here tonight and promised to pass them along for him... he seemed quite worried about you." He paused gravely, meeting Maes' eyes over the rim of his glasses. "I believe all of your friends are."

Maes, halfway through burying himself under his scarf, glasses already pushed up onto his nose, hesitated. His stomach flipped nervously again.

His friends...

"I... yeah." Coughing slightly, he pulled the scarf a little tighter around his neck and ducked his head into it, burrowing himself as small and hidden as he could get and averting his eyes. "I guess they... they are."

Hohenheim nodded slightly, quiet at first, simply watching him with serious eyes, his face still all but unreadable. He was still for a moment, just gazing at him, inscrutable, grave.

And then, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, to look at him head on, and spoke. "On the topic of your friends, then... as well as your future at Hogwarts, Maes."

Maes' mouth went dry, and a cold chill slithered straight down his spine.

"...Sir?"

The headmaster again smiled. As slight and mysterious as he was growing used to... and exactly as unsettling. "I believe," he said quietly, "that we have some things I would like to talk to you about, Maes."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments/kudos! Final update, here we go! Hope to see you next time! :D
> 
> ...annd... this chapter, just like last one, is 12k words... except it's all one scene... so nowhere to divide it up..... i wrote 60k words in two weeks yet have had other fics on hiatus for forever wtf... annnd, ranowa can not be concise, installment 93248203, here we gooooo...

When Roy finally found himself dragging open his dry, tired eyes, it was morning.

He blinked several times. He stared, lazily and mired in exhaustion, up to the old, arched ceiling. He flexed his fingers in the blankets.

It took him a few more moments of blinks to realize that this was, truly, the _next_ morning. Before, he'd been at St. Mungo's. Different ceiling. Now, he was at Hogwarts. He knew it because he knew the hospital wing very well, because he'd spent at least one day a month there in his earlier years, keeping Maes company as he healed from his own self-inflicted injuries as a werewolf.

Therefore: he was back at Hogwarts.

Roy breathed in a slowly, shuddering breath, and, very carefully, let himself smile.

It was over.

He took in another few slow breaths, flexing his toes and curling his fingers and stretching as much as he could without aggravating anything that was better kept still right now. He felt... better than yesterday. That much, at least, he was sure of. His arm still ached, but he could already gingerly move it around a little and knew it would only take a day or two more of letting Madam Pomfrey see to it for it to be good as new. It'd be more than fine for him to take his NEWTs by the time they rolled around in just a few weeks.

The rest of him, on the other hand...

Slowly, with an agonizing sort of care, Roy trailed a hand along the wound across his chest. He couldn't even get close before instinct had him flinching back, the hot and inflamed skin reacting angrily to the slightest touch and searing through him from head to toe, so hot and sudden he was left to reel and gasp through clenched teeth. The painful, stinging cut slashed hard all the way through him, so deep he swore he could feel it in his back and so long he could barely follow it all the way.

That-

Yeah. That hurt.

It hurt pretty much just as badly as it had yesterday.

They'd already told him it was going to scar.

He vaguely remembered his aunt being there with him, though it was all indistinct and fuzzy... they'd kept trying to make him sleep, he thought, struggling to find some way to make the pain bearable and failing rather consistently, at that. It had been such chaos, anyway, Ministry wizards demanding to know what had happened while ignoring Roy's own pleas to tell him the same, medi-wizards and his aunt trying to shoo the Ministry away, at some point he was almost positive he'd seen a professor or two... Roy sighed heavily, scowling up at the ceiling. It had only been after much begging that he'd finally gotten the aurors to irritatedly placate him with a few gruff _he's FINE_ comments, comments that did absolutely nothing to put him at ease and had only barely assured him that at least Maes was still alive...

He'd ended up pleading his aunt to come back to Hogwarts on her own to look after Maes, and make sure nothing happened to him. He was pretty sure, by the look in her eyes alone, that the only reason she'd let him convince her at all was because he was headed back to Hogwarts so soon himself.

And now, he was here.

For a moment, he found himself smiling so hard it hurt his face.

Then, still smiling, he blinked until he'd cleared his eyes of sleep, and immediately turned his head in search for his best friend.

He didn't have to look far.

Maes Hughes, resident werewolf and maniac, was in the bed right next to his.

Roy's heart soared, this time with a sheer frantic, dizzying, _breathless_ relief.

There he was.

He saw there in the bed nearest to his right, pushed up to lean against a somewhat ridiculous mound of pillows- including one that looked a bit like it had been stolen from the Gryffindor common room- with his head down and face pulled into a sleepy sort of frown. Even that much of his expression was difficult to see, with most of him remained tucked under a blanket with the exact same color scheme as the pillow, with the entire rest obscured by his thick and outlandish Hufflepuff scarf. The colors matched in a way that was absolutely ghastly, but very Maes, and Roy just couldn't stop his smile from broadening, a short breath away from giving himself up into laughter. He was also currently buried in a book, muttering incantations under his breath as he waved his wand through practice motions, and save for a quickly fading cut on his forehead and another one near his mouth, as well as the way his leg was stretched out stiffly beneath the blanket... he looked absolutely fine.

At last, totally, completely human, and at last, absolutely, one hundred percent _fine._

Roy beamed again.

Against all the odds.. against every last thing that Kimbley had tried to do to them...

They'd both made it.

It was _over._

"Maes," he croaked out, and grinned.

His best friend jumped.

The wide green eyes that landed on him were abruptly huge with shock, bloodshot in their exhaustion and strained with the undeniable weight of everything that had happened but his open, vulnerable surprise blotting out even that. He just stared blankly at him, suddenly working his mouth several times as if speechless, and in the space of that stunned silence, seemed truly incapable of anything at all greater than gaping at him in wordless quiet. His wand dropped weakly through slack fingers.

The stillness dragged on. The open surprise and guilt burned desperately into his best friend's face had yet to so much as flicker. Just the sting of misery, seared horribly into his huge eyes, gaze latched onto his face so hard and driving it made Roy's stomach turn.

And then, with a suddenness that was like a slap to the face, Maes jerked his head back around to his book, slumped back with a great huff of air, and buried himself right back into it.

"Hey," he mumbled flatly back, then snapped his mouth shut.

Roy's smile faltered.

There was an uncertain, uncomfortable sort of pause. The silence dragged on, and Maes, now glaring into his book, gruffly turned another page.

"...yeah," Roy mumbled after a few seconds, earlier confidence feeling rather as if Maes had just poked it with a shiny, sharp pen, then found himself having to clear his throat into the silence. "Hi?" He started to fumble around with his one good arm, hoping to make a stab a sitting himself up. "You're certainly looking... um... colorful."

Maes started for a breath, that cold cloud cloaking his face scattered away with the surprise of it to reveal the vulnerability underneath it again. He looked down at himself, blinking and unsure, then abruptly ducked his head even further into his scarf- this time, it seemed, to hide a weak smile. "Speak for yourself."

"Wha-..." Startled, Roy blinked at Maes only for surprise to morph into disbelief as he actually looked himself over for the first time, only to realize that he, too, just like Maes, was tucked under a Gryffindor blanket. He suddenly had a sinking sort of suspicion as to what his pillow might look like, too. There was also a Slytherin scarf draped over the end of it that was one hundred percent thieved from his dormitory, because Roy couldn't think of any other way it could've gotten there, not to mention, it was _mid-June,_ and he was not _Maes,_ so there was no need for any scarves at all unless one was a nagging, overprotective busybody who wanted to bury him under as many potential comfort items as possible.

"...let me guess," he laughed after several seconds, rolling his head lazily back over to look up at Maes. "Riza?"

His best friend still seemed a little uncomfortable, for some reason, and wouldn't really look at him, but nodded quickly enough. "Oh, yeah," he grunted. "The whole gang. They found out we're pretty much stuck here for a week or so and sort of went all out... I get the feeling they raided their common room for us. Kain raided the kitchens." He jabbed with his wand towards the nightstand in between them, which Roy had missed until now, but when he finally looked it was to find it all but overflowing with get well cards, a strange plant Roy was about ninety percent sure had been thieved from the greenhouses, and made complete with a basket of candy-flavored fruits and candy-flavored sweets.

Roy shook his head, laughing faintly again, and let himself relax back down to the bed. Carefully, gingerly, through gritted teeth and with measured, shaky breaths, he managed to maneuver an arm over as gently as he could to not pull at the wound on his chest. He fumbled for the nearest confection and somehow managed to drag it back over to himself, tired fingers struggling with the wrapper. Definitely stolen from the kitchens, all right. Or perhaps from Honey Dukes. Either way, a very welcome present, and one he knew from experience he'd have to eat quickly, if he didn't want Maes to devour the whole thing.

"So they've already stopped by, then?" he asked around a small mouthful of already melting chocolate. Strawberry flavored, he considered, rolling it lightly around in his fingers. "So... they know what happened?"

Maes went quiet for a moment again. Hesitancy flickered across his face, shadowing him like a cold wave of snow, and somehow, he was not very surprised when his green eyes remained down on his book to not look at him even once.

"I... yeah," he confessed at last. "They were here this morning, but I made them go to class about an hour ago. They said they'd come back after lunch."

Roy, still struggling to get the rest of wrapper off one-handedly, frowned. He mulled over the words in his tired head for a moment: the defeated, withdrawn sort of lilt, the tense set of his jaw, the remaining shadows in his eyes. He hesitated uncomfortably again, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

Then, the underlying message in them sunk in.

Then, his frown deepened.

"...they know what happened?" he repeated slowly, gaze focusing back on Maes. "So they know that you're a- a werewolf?"

Maes stiffened again. The hand around the edge of his book curled slightly, gripping it even tighter, so tight it went white underneath the angry, bloodied teeth marks gnawed deeply along his knuckles. "Yeah," he grunted at length, still staring down at his book rather than at Roy. He did not move.

Roy winced.

So that reveal had not gone well, then?

He paused, unsure of what, exactly, he might be able to say to help this- but it was very clear he had just tread into waters he was not welcome in. Maes was plainly very upset about _something,_ though he wasn't saying what, and considering all that had happened, there was any number of things that could be responsible. He considered himself for a moment, wanting to help but not really sure how he could, _needing_ to make it better though he didn't know how.

The broad smile he'd woken up with on his face was not all but utterly eradicated.

"...look," he started at last, "if they were uncomfortable with it... it's a lot for them to take in. It was a lot for me to take in when I found out, too, Maes. But that- that doesn't mean they-"

"Nope!" With an another angry huff of air, Maes tossed his book shut so vehemently the _smack_ made Roy flinch and pushed himself back against the bed, glaring stubbornly ahead like the window across from them had said something of great offense. "They were all perfectly fine with it. They all even tried to defend me when they thought Hohenheim blamed me. Totally, one hundred percent, absolutely a-okay with being friends with a freak who's lied to them all for years and just tried to kill you."

Roy flinched again. Maes, somewhat predictably, continued to glare.

...so, it was going to be one of _those_ days.

Gingerly, Roy lowered the candy bar back down to the thick, and, in his opinion, irredeemably garish Gryffindor blanket draped over him. He stared at it for a moment, swallowing hard, both trying to get rid of the bitterness in his mouth and the lump in his throat.

"None of us blame you, you know," he finally said.

Maes scoffed, turning his head even more away. "I never said-"

"You're thinking it, though. What, you think it's not obvious?"

If possible, Maes sulked even more.

Roy sighed carefully, shutting his eyes as he forced himself calm, struggling to drain the mere appearance of hostility away from his voice. This wasn't going to go anywhere good, not if it kept on that path. With another few calming breaths, he returned his gaze to the ceiling rather than his best friend, forgoing even trying to sit up so as to try and keep this as non confrontational as possible. "I told you that night I wouldn't blame you, no mater what the end result was. I meant that. And it sounds like none of our friends blame you, either. And before you try to tell me that we should... maybe that should just be our choice to make."

But once again, his friend let out a quiet scoff, even if this one was a bit weaker than before. "Right," he muttered, picking angrily at a few stray threads. He shook his head, fingers twitching and fidgeting even faster, shivering like he almost couldn't sit still, the look on his face stricken and torn, almost indescribable. "You know," he snapped suddenly, "do you realize- I _told_ you to leave, if it came to that. If it came down to you or me I told you to choose yourself!"

"Yeah. And I didn't."

"You _should have!"_

He groaned, some of his exhausted annoyance slipping through his facade despite his best efforts and he pulled a hand out to rub at his head, now glaring at the ceiling. "What's your problem?"

"M- _my_ problem?" Maes stammered. " _You're_ the one who-"

"I knew exactly what I was risking and I chose to make that decision. It was my choice, Maes, all right? Do you get that yet? It's been what, three years, now, for you trying to apologize to me for my own choices- these are things _I_ decided to do. _I_ made all these choices. The responsibility for what happens doesn't belong anywhere but with me. So if I decide you're worth it, then you're worth-"

_"Damn it, Roy!"_

The sudden exclamation, or perhaps it was closer to just a flat out yell, had not been something he'd been prepared for. Neither was the way Maes shoved his book away so violently it almost hit the floor, or how he flushed straight from the pallor of exhaustion to as red as the stolen blankets, or the angry scarlet sparks that burnt at the tip of his wand before he shoved that away, too, angry bloody fiery sparks that set the frayed edge of the blanket smoking and glowing like the furious snort of a dragon.

His breaths stayed heavy, and his teeth stayed bared, in a way that was just a little too reminiscent of what he had been two nights ago.

This time, it was Roy who found himself inching just a little bit away from him, trying to speak, yet not finding any words waiting for him in his throat.

His best friend shook his head vehemently several times, trembling like he just wanted to shout at him and was barely holding back. He worked his jaw once, glaring down at himself, fingers twitching in a way that was almost dangerous before his hand just abruptly shot out, smothering the smoking patch of the blanket with an angry sort of hiss of rage- and Roy, almost pathetically, found himself wordless and withering back against the mattress in silence.

Until, finally, whatever angry maelstrom of emotion that Maes was trying so hard to smash down reached a boiling point.

"You have _no idea_ how it felt, do you?"

"...Maes, I-"

_**"I woke up covered in your blood! You piece of shit, I woke up with your skin and blood in my MOUTH!"** _

And suddenly, Maes was coming for him, shoving himself forwards and turning to Roy even though his leg still didn't seem to be moving the way a human leg ought to, panting to swing himself over the side of the bed and leg flopping bonelessly and sickeningly but his friend so plainly felt none of it, face red and spitting mad and teeth bared as he just started _screaming._ "Do you get that, Roy?! _Do you fucking get that?! I remembered hurting you and I thought you were dead!_ I- I had to w- _watch_ them- t-take you away, you were covered in blood and screaming- you were _dying,_ I thought you were dying, t-that's- then I woke up and realized what I'd done and you weren't there- _I thought I'd killed you, Roy! I thought you were dead and it was my fault!"_

Roy found a hand reaching out to him before he knew what he was doing, drawn out from under the suffocating blanket as if possessed to try and reach him, heart lurching so painfully in his chest he wanted to scream himself. "But I didn't, Maes- I'm alive and-"

"I don't care, Roy, _I don't care!"_ he gasped brokenly, eyes huge and suddenly _wild._ "I don't care, I still saw myself- I s-saw- you were _hurt,_ you were bleeding everywhere, you looked s-so _scared,_ and- and I _NEVER_ want to feel that again, do you understand that, Roy?! I- I _can't_ go through that again! If I killed _a-anyone_ I wouldn't be able to live with myself, but if I- if I killed _YOU-!"_

And then, he was crying, Roy realized, with all the force of a sucker punch to the gut. Maes was balanced there precariously on the very edge of his bed, seeming to lack the balance or the strength to stop himself from falling flat on his face and gasping through clenched teeth, blinking furiously, red-faced - and eyes, stubbornly wet. His green eyes were wet, cheeks out of nowhere damp, and slow, stubborn tears starting to form in a way he just didn't seem to be able to force back. He looked desperate and miserable. He looked so horrified and guiltstricken that he didn't even want to live with what he'd done- with the horror of what he _might have_ done.

He looked like he must've felt ever since the moon had set and he'd come back to himself, and woken up covered in Roy's blood.

Roy's breath caught on the lump in his throat, and he suddenly found himself averting his eyes, because he just couldn't bear to see it.

A few moments passed in wordless, thick quiet, broken only by Maes' heavy, cracked breaths and tiny, almost-whimpers. Roy, fidgeting and barely able to lie still, found that he simply couldn't bring himself to witness that anguished look on his best friend's face.

“...did you ever realize," he finally forced out, voice small and perhaps hopeless, but _steady,_ "that I’d feel the same way, if I’d just turned my back and left you to die?”

Maes half choked, a small, anguished cry stumbling out as if he'd been powerless to stop it. He shook his head out of the corner of his eye, not an answer but an angry refusal to hear it. "It's not the same."

"But it _is._ It is, and you now it is." Taking in a deep, shaking breath, Roy again directed his attention towards sitting up, this time refusing to let himself fail. He wouldn't have this conversation lying down. It took a few moments for him to get enough leverage to start pushing himself up again, and a few seconds more to actually make it, breathing heavily the whole way, the rough, violent tear down his chest searing hot pain all through his body, but he didn't intend on stopping this time, not until he was all the way up and facing Maes and ready to confront this head on.

He also hadn't foreseen Maes trying to stop him, though.

Because his idiot best friend, like the _idiot_ that he was, had lifted his head up when Roy started moving, reaching a hand out half-heartedly to try and stop it, and when that wasn't enough to dissuade him, he was suddenly struggling out of bed himself. "Roy-" he started, the anger and desperation wiped away from his face by a newly blossoming concern as he pushed himself upright and out of bed.

In retrospect, it wasn't that much of a shock when he tripped right on his own still barely functional leg, flailed forward with a shocked cry, and slammed right into Roy's bed on his tumble to the floor.

The pain in his chest was suddenly muffled, steamrolled right over by the heartstopping panic that was even harder to bear than the hurt. "Maes!" he cried, darting forward, _"Maes-"_ he leaned forward desperately, hand landing on his best friend's trembling shoulder, trying to guide him up or steady him but to no avail. "Maes? Maes! Are you- damn it- what's _wrong_ with you, you have a broken leg, why would you- are you okay? Does it hurt? Maes?"

Maes gasped heavily, kneeling messily and with shock pressed into his eyes, leg splayed out limply on the ground in a way that was _definitely_ not natural, and definitely _was_ stomach wrenching. He doubled over to gasp and groan, clutching at the sheets for a helpless grab at balance, face faded bone white and panting so hard Roy thought, for a terrible moment, that he was about to be sick- but he merely looked shocked. Not in pain. Simply breathless with the fall and the shock of it, blinking up at Roy and wordless and gaping; he shook his head again, this time in more of a dazed answer to Roy's question, sucked in another surprised gasp- then just slumped right over to bury his face right into his arms.

His shoulders shook. His face went red again, this time with suppressed breaths and the force of almost choking on it. He shut his eyes, trembling and grasping frantically against the bed.

And, as Roy watched on, still trembling from the scare of it and nearly flat out alarmed, cold and clammy and frightened, he realized- that his best friend was laughing.

"Guess I'm not walking anywhere until the bones grow back, huh?" he rasped after a couple seconds, voice cracking and muffled into the blanket. He slumped even further, shoulders sagging, the anger and desperation that had kept him so tense before already melting into a smile. He pillowed his face into his arms and continued to laugh, grinning exhaustedly, shaking desperately with the force of it... and Roy very quickly found himself powerless to stop himself from following his example.

He leaned back against his own pillows, a breathless smile tearing its way across his face. "You're a moron," he murmured, letting good hand fall to rest on the back of Maes' head. "An absolute, helpless moron."

Maes made soft, disgruntled sort of sound into the blanket, face reddening again, but this time with embarrassment instead of anger. The smile, Roy noted delightedly, was still there. "Quit it," he mumbled, shaking his head as if to try and throw Roy's hand off yet failing miserably. "'m not a dog..."

"Oh? Well, I'm not, either... at least, not most of the time. Doesn't stop you from petting me like one, does it?" Smirking, Roy scratched him behind the ears, just like Maes liked to do to his wolf form, just like he'd done so often to Maes' own werewolf form, and his smirk broadened when Maes' face flamed and he pressed his face down as if to hide in conjunction with a long-suffering moan.

Roy held his tongue for a couple moments, just looking down at him, finally relaxing now that it seemed his best friend had relaxed as well. He scratched his hair teasingly one more time before allowing his hand to slide to his shoulder, something affectionate and vaguely painful tightening in a band around his heart. "You're not mad at me at all, are you?" he asked quietly. "You say you are, then ran right over here just because- what? Me moving? Just because you were concerned about me... ran right over here to fall on your face."

Maes sighed into his arms, sobering a little, but even as his smile faded he still did not try to sit up or dislodge Roy's hand again. In fact, he seemed to melt even more into the mattress, slumping down further as if to try and hide his face. "No," he mumbled, muffled, into his arms. "I _am._ I'm fucking mad at you, Roy. I'm... I'm mad at you and I'm scared and I... I don't like this, okay? I don't like what happened and I r _-really_ don't like that it can happen again. I- y-you... you said you _forgave me_ , Roy, and I..."

He went quiet for a few moments, struggling uselessly with all that he wanted to say that he knew that there was no words for. His pale, scratched face was torn, almost indescribable with the misery of it now, and for a heartbeat that was all it was, just that heartbreaking look on his face and too much pain for him to bear.

And then, wordlessly, he shuffled himself over, inch by haphazard inch, to throw his arms around Roy's waist and bury his face into his side in the closest to a hug that he could get.

Roy's heart all but cracked all over again.

Fucking Kimbley.

Fucking _Kimbley._

"Yeah," he forced out quietly into the thick, terrible silence, resting his hand on his best friend's hair again. This time, there was no teasing scratch at his ears. "Yeah. I did. And I meant it, Maes." He swallowed at the painful lump forming in his throat, doing pathetically little to actually dislodge it, and shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on the warm, comfortable weight in his lap and the way he moved against him, a sure, steady proof that he was breathing.

He'd known as he'd said it how badly it would hurt Maes to hear it, and he'd still meant every word.

"...I'm sorry," Maes whispered at last. His voice was suddenly small, and suspiciously thick in a way that made him abruptly glad that he could not see his face. "I'm really, really sorry, Roy."

"I know."

"T-...thank you. For everything that you did for me. You didn't have to."

"I know."

Maes was quiet again for another moment, face still hidden into Roy's lap and breaths a short, stuttery staccato. His fist tightened a little in the mess of blankets and he struggled to draw in a deeper, shuddering breath, even as his back trembled and he sniffed a little, voice gaining strength. "What- what you said. About me being a... a part of your pack. That you... lo-..."

 _That you loved me,_ Roy heard, unfinished into the thick, painful air.

"...thank you," his best friend whispered again, trembling hard again into his lap. "The... it's mutual."

Roy smiled a little this time, tilting his head down at Maes, smiling only because it was easier than giving in to the fragile, vulnerable sort of pain clenching around his heart. "Yeah," he said. "I know, you idiot."

A thick, delicate silence settled again, Maes' arms still thrown around him and Roy's hand still on his head. He didn't trust his own voice enough to try and break it, and Maes evidently did not, either- that, or perhaps, he just didn't know what to say. He was still and quiet for a few moments, the silence only broken by each shuddering, carefully calming breath, the small dampness against the blanket fading as he brought himself back from the edge.

And it was into this unsettled, pained quiet, that the door to the hospital wing swung open with a solid, confident thud.

It was immediate and _loud,_ loud enough to yank Roy's hand back away from Maes and for Maes to flinch himself, head jerking up off the blanket and the misery on his expression chased away to stare. It was somebody new, Roy realized with a furrowed brow, not a professor and certainly not a student, somebody new and that was enough to have them both withdrawing away, on the defensive until they knew who this was. It was an older witch, older than both of them and with an air about her that cut through the room like a knife and narrowed eyes so sharp they were deadly. She shut the door briskly behind her with a business-like air and strode forwards straight for them, arms folding, blonde hair bouncing angrily over her shoulders, already looking to them both with a gaze like ice..

Roy's eyes widened in disbelief, and he sat bolt upright before Maes had even managed to straighten himself up at all. _"Olivier?_ " he exclaimed, nearly shivering with the shock of it. _"_ Olivier Armstrong?"

She nodded shortly, her quick stride bringing her to a halt directly in front of his bed. "Mustang. Hughes."

He blinked again, taking her in with new eyes and this time shaking his head in something near bewilderment. It had been so long since he'd seen her it had taken him a moment to place her face, but now that she'd confirmed it- that was her, all right. "Olivier," he said again, this time more of an acknowledgement, then shook Maes' shoulder. "Maes, this is Olivier Armstrong- remember? She was Head Girl our first year. Olivier, it's... it's been a while."

"Yes," the older Slytherin said, nodding stiffly. "Four years since we last met, at my brother's graduation. ...Considering the circumstances surrounding my current visit, I'm afraid I can not say that it is a pleasure."

"The current circum-... oh." His own welcoming sort of smile faltered, this time fading with the chilling wave of realization. "Your sister."

Olivier's mouth twitched. There was something newly cold there, her expressionless face paling whiter and her fierce eyes shadowing dark, and for a moment, the anger he saw lurking there was positively venomous. "My parents have already removed Catherine from the school, for the time being," she said, cold as ice with an steely undercurrent that, somehow, Roy imagined was not directed at him. "She is not here."

He winced. He could not blame them. Sharing a worried glance with Maes, he started to sink gently back against his pillows again, and his best friend joined him, this time, shifting around to try and get a better look at Olivier. "Is she doing okay?" Roy asked worriedly. "I haven't had the chance to actually speak to her yet... her or Augustus. I'm so sorry they got caught up in all of this." He was going to have to ask Riza to hunt those kids down, he figured, especially if he was stuck here for like this for now... he remained determined to see to it that no first year under his care or responsibility slipped through the cracks ever again.

Olivier, however, simply frowned again, seeming rather disinclined to blame him for any of this. "She's doing well, considering the circumstances, thank you. Our parents are considering withdrawing her from this school, somewhat dependent on how this situation is resolved. I'm not much inclined to talk them out of it."

Once again, Roy shared an uncomfortable glance with Maes, who seemed just as discontented about this as he was. Roy wasn't sure how he felt about that... there, of course, had been a time when he'd felt much the same way about himself. But, even given current circumstances, he knew he'd made the right decision to stay at Hogwarts and didn't regret it at all. He knew Maes felt similarly. But he also knew Olivier was not likely to want to listen to their opinions on it...

Nor, of course, had she come here to ask for it.

A quiet sense of unease settled over him again.

"...then," he ventured unsurely, licking his lips, "if Catherine's not here..."

"Why am I, you mean?" she asked flatly. Shaking her head slightly, Olivier swept around to stand even more directly in front of his bed, resting her hands down on the rail to face them both head on. "I'm not here as an Armstrong today, Mustang. Or didn't you know?"

"Know _what?"_

"I'm an Auror now. I'm here in an official capacity."

Roy's brow furrowed again. She was an Auror now? Granted, that didn't really surprise him... just from what little he remembered of what she'd been like in school, he could imagine she would make a very good one. But, why would the aurors be here in an official capacity? Roy wasn't sure if he'd ever seen aurors be called down to Hogwarts- maybe only if a serious crime had been committed-

Oh.

Right.

He swallowed uncomfortably, sharing another anxious sort of look with his best friend. "You mean what happened in the Forbidden Forest."

Just out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maes slink just a little bit closer to him, wilting smaller. Before he knew it, Roy's hand was curled back over his shoulder.

_They're not doing anything to you, Maes. I promise._

Olivier's eyes lingered on the gesture, sharp and missing nothing. "...Yes. I was sent here with business concerning two nights ago."

Maes, finally speaking up, started to fumble to try and push himself upright, maneuvering himself around with a heavy, exhausted sort of grunt so sit on the side of Roy's bed- probably because he couldn't make it back to his own. Roy rushed to help him but the Hufflepuff wasn't even looking in his direction, didn't even respond to the hand on his back as he frowned up at Olivier, balanced so precariously on the bed all it would take was a slight gust of wind to tumble him off. "We've already spoken to investigators. Both of us. If you're here thinking our stories will change-"

"I'm not here to interrogate either of you, Hughes. If you must know, we've already all but determined that you two will both be considered victims in this case while we've already labeled Kimbley as a fugitive." Her mouth curled a little, as if tempted to slip into something of a snarl. "I know a few who were murmuring about it being easier to just scapegoat the werewolf, but your headmaster made it clear and my parents made it clearer they would accept no such handwaving of justice. We will hunt Kimbley down, and we will punish him under the fullest extent that our laws allow."

Roy tensed. Next to him, underneath his hand, Maes shrunk back again. Just by the slightest fraction of a inch, but it was enough.

"His name is Maes," Roy said tightly, his own smile fading into a glare for the first time since Olivier had walked into the room. "Maes Hughes. Not _the werewolf."_

Olivier glanced between them, coldly at first, but then, seeing the hard look on Roy's face and whatever it was on Maes', Roy didn't know but he was glad he didn't have to see it- she softened. Just a little, barely enough to be noticeable at all, just a slight weakening at the tight corner of her mouth- but it was enough for Roy to see it. It was enough to matter. "Yes," was all she said, tilting her head slightly in their direction, "Maes Hughes," but it was enough. Not an apology, perhaps, but... hell, it was better than a defense. It was better than a justification.

It was a lot better than what Roy knew Maes was used to, and a lot better than what Maes had come to even expect to deserve.

He wasn't sure if that fact should sober him, disappoint him... or fucking _infuriate_ him.

Olivier cleared her throat into the uncertain, dark silence, edging forward to look between them again. "It's actually a false impression that I am here to discuss the case with either of you, Mustang. While the Ministry did send me, it was for a different matter. One that I would actually like to speak with you privately on... unless you and your boyfriend would like some more time to yourselves."

Roy glared at her again, and he could just tell Maes was as well as the Hufflepuff shrugged Roy's hand away from him, tensing just a little more on the side of the bed. "He's not my boyfriend," Roy snapped, allowing him to push his hand away, "and anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of him."

His best friend, however, tried to pull away again, his worried gazed coming back to meet his. "Roy, if you-"

"I'm really not in the mood to watch you crawl to the door, Maes. I don't really see another way for you to leave us alone, so the only other remotely feasible option is just for you to stay."

The sulk was expected, as was the rather grumpy eye roll; Roy did nothing but just pull on the back of Maes' shirt, re-settling him on the bed while redirecting his near glare to Olivier. The Auror rolled her eyes as well, seeming a bit annoyed by their response but not surprised, and even threw her hands as if in surrender as she stepped back to get a better look at them both. "All the same to me, if he wants to eavesdrop. If that is the case, then... Mustang. You are a seventh year. According to our information, you have not responded to any Ministry offers of employment or internships thus far. Have you decided yet what you are planning to do?"

Roy blinked stupidly.

...What?

This was...

She was asking him about his _job plans?_

'I..." Roy blinked dumbly again, this time at Maes, who at least seemed as flagrantly lost as he was. Okay, then. His _job plans._ "I don't really see how that's any of the Ministry's business." No. He hadn't taken any job offers. He'd barely let himself even think about it, and, as such, really hadn't decided at all what he was planning to do. He'd promised Maes, after all, that whatever would happen, they'd do it together, and... there weren't really a lot of job opportunities for werewolves. There certainly weren't two professorships at Hogwarts opening up for the taking like they'd so naively hoped for.

It was a question he'd been trying very hard not to think about answering, even as the deadline of his graduation loomed.

It was a question he'd really not even _thought_ about answering while stuck in the hospital wing, still reeling and struggling to recover from something that could've killed them both.

Olivier's eyes narrowed again, fingers twitching as if the dodge of the question, the slight of her authority, no matter how small, annoyed her. "It's our business," she said testily, "because, Mustang- I was sent here to offer you a job."

...oh.

That...

All right, that was _definitely_ unexpected.

When he found himself too slack-jawed to respond, the Auror sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose, and elaborated on. "You were already on our radar as potential Auror material before all of this. You're taking all the required classes and are predicted to do adequately on your exams, and when the professors sent their annual recommendations to us, you were on that list. Then this sordid affair... those who matter, Mustang, were very impressed with your actions in the forest. You successfully fought off both a werewolf and a troll, and held your own against a group of centaurs. There's not many who can say that."

He sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth to just barely stop himself from letting out a short laugh. "Hardly," he muttered, one hand again finding the tip of his new scar, arcing painfully from shoulder to hip. "If they think I was successful, I worry for the standards in what is meant to be our world's best and brightest."

The Auror frowned at him again while Maes was abruptly elbowing backwards in his direction, rolling his eyes and looking as if he wanted to shove him. "Shut up, you dolt-"

"I'm not sure insulting the person offering you a job is-"

"I'm not _insulting_ you! I just-"

"You kinda did, buddy-"

" _Excuse me,"_ Olivier snapped, eyes flashing, nails abruptly biting into the foot of the bed. She waited a moment, glaring dangerously to them both, clearly waiting to go on until she was sure she would no longer be interrupted. "All I am here to say is that if you are interested in the position, you should apply, because we are interested in you. And... if you need the enticing, Mustang? I imagine you _should_ be interested in it. Because we are your only chance at seeing Kimbley again. " She paused, almost dangerously, gaze resting on him in a way that was downright unsettling- and then, she smiled.

"Now," she said, spreading her hands, "if I'm wrong, I'm wrong. But, to me, it seems as if you might have a little bit of unfinished business left with him that you might want to resolve."

"...you mean revenge," Roy filled in flatly.

She shrugged with a cold, almost angry toss of her hair- and another cold, angry sort of smile. "I mean whatever you like to call it. I know I'm looked forward to meeting that coward again for myself after what he did to my sister. From what I remembered of you two in your first year alone, I imagine you might feel the same way."

Something cold sank into the pit of Roy's stomach, a reluctance to hear what Olivier was telling him, but at the same time- oh, at the same time...

There was the sneaking recognition that she was also _right._

Roy swallowed hard, breaking gaze with her and suddenly finding himself focusing more on the sharp, beating pain in his chest, because he'd rather tackle that than the dark uncertainty still growing in him, flooding him from head to toe.

She was right.

Oh, she was right.

He'd hated Zolf Kimbley since his first year. He'd wanted to tear him apart since his fourth. But now?

Now he wanted it enough to actually _do something_ about it.

Before he'd been angry enough for a punch to the face, maybe, some disparaging insults- maybe string him up in front of the whole school, see how _he_ liked it- but never enough to actually want to seriously hurt him. Never enough to actually make him bleed or cry... if that sociopath was even capable of the latter. More than anything, he'd just wanted to graduate with Maes and his other friends and then never have to see him again.

But now?

Oh, god.

 _Now,_ things were different.

Kimbley had tried to kill them both. Not just a mean-spirited schoolyard prank; he had meticulously planned it all to the last detail, he had cursed them both, he had left them both scarred for life, and he had left them down in that forest with every intention for either both of them to die- or for Maes to be cursed with the memory of tearing his best friend apart for the rest of his life. He'd made Roy turn around, after years of _swearing_ to his best friend that he'd never have to spend another night in a cage, and cage him himself.

The harsh, breathless rage that had swept through him in that clearing swept through him again, no longer as potent and deadly but instead sicker, and more painful, than before.

In that moment, he remembered, he'd wanted to kill Kimbley.

He was pretty sure he still did.

He didn't know if he liked that part of himself or not.

He did know, however, he at least wasn't supposed to like the way that Olivier was trying to entice him with it.

At last, forcing in a long, calming breath, in and out, eyes closed and heart struggling against the toxic anger he was still torn on whether or not he ought to embrace, he dragged his eyes back up to Olivier again, this time falling back on the one sure resistance he knew he had left. "What about Maes?"

Maes stiffened by his side, swiveling around to stare at him again. "Roy..."

However, he refused to look at his best friend, instead holding Olivier's hard stare and not letting her break it. "He's in most of the same classes as me," he insisted. "Grades just as high."

Olivier raised an eyebrow.

"He could make a damn good Auror. At least as good as the one you're convinced I'd make."

She continued to simply stare. A quiet, emotionless challenge, demanding he say it, as she was not going to. Maes, however, withdrew even _more_ into himself, so obviously hating the way this had gone as he ducked his reddening face, staring hard at the sheets and desperately not looking at either one of them. _"Roy..."_

"Well?" he pressed, staring back up at Olivier. "If I have an offer, shouldn't he? Is there something wrong with him that makes him less worth it than I am?"

 _"Roy,"_ Maes said again, this time almost a miserable whine, sinking even further into himself. "Roy, come _on..."_

The silence pressed on. Olivier stared. Roy glared.

Until, at last, her expression still just as completely unwavering and her eyes just as cold and her voice just as flat as it had been this whole time, Olivier answered him.

"Mustang, allow me to make something perfectly clear. I am not here because I think you would make a good Auror. I am not here because I recommended you to my superiors and they agreed. I was _sent_ here, because _they_ decided you might make a good Auror, and I was deemed to be the messenger. That's it. Mustang." She removed her hands from the rail of the bed, patience seemingly all but evaporated as she withdrew to frown down at them both. "I am still a junior Auror. I have about as much power to change Ministry policy as you do. You can sit there and stare at me and try to get me to admit that the problem is that he's a werewolf all you want- and that is exactly it. He's a werewolf. There. I said it. And it didn't change anything, did it?" she asked pointedly, folding her arms to fixate him with an unavoidable stare. "There is absolutely nothing either you or I can that will change any of this. Currently, Mustang, the job is extended to you. It is not extended to your friend."

Roy narrowed his eyes right back.

So that was that, then.

"In that case," he said coldly, "I think that I'm going to have to reject your-"

"He'll take it," Maes said suddenly.

Roy stiffened, and the cold claw of self-righteous rage around his heart morphed straight into disbelieving shock.

"I'll- I'll _what?"_ he demanded, yanking on Maes' shoulder to turn him around to face him. The look on his face was off, somehow, unexpectedly serious in a way Roy wasn't ready to deal with, but that didn't matter, because Maes wasn't even his focus right now. "Olivier, don't listen to him. I haven't decided anything yet! Maes-"

Olivier threw her hands up again, exasperation settling over her tired face and already stressed eyes in an exhausted sort of wave. "Clearly, it seems you two have a lot to discuss. Mustang- if you decide that you're interested, you'd best owl us quickly. Auror training begins shortly after your exam scores get in, and we don't accept late applicants. My superiors are looking forward to hearing from you. Meanwhile: happy recovering, the both of you." Then, without another word, she turned and, just as brusquely as she'd entered, immediately strode away, headed for the door without a look back or seemingly even a second thought.

Roy already turned away from her, glaring in distress at his best friend as he flat out ignored the auror's departure. It was obvious Maes was still uncomfortable with the turn this had taken and didn't want to look at him or fess up to why, but Roy was not about to let this go without a fight. "Maes-" he demanded.

"Mustang!"

The irritation that curled his tongue was almost more than he could bite back. He twisted around silently to stare back at the Olivier the lingering good will that he'd always held for her for his debt to her fading fast under the pain in his chest and his irritation at Maes. "What?" he forced out bitingly, and was entirely unsurprised when what he got in return was nothing but another unwavering stare.

"For what it's worth," she said quietly. "I think both you and your friend would make very good Aurors, Mustang."

Then, she turned her back and left without another word.

Roy glared at the shut door, his heart alternately thudding and clenching so hard in his chest that angry dark spots flooded over his blurring vision. "Yeah?" he muttered darkly, the injustice of it all curling his spine and slicing through the long new wound across his chest. "Fat lot of good that means to us when she still won't even consider you." Then, still tensed and upset, he turned back around to face his best friend, still unsettled by that look on his face and not sure what to make of it but definitely without the patience for it. "Maes, listen, I promised you I wouldn't leave you behind and I meant that. I meant everything I've ever promised you. I'm not going to go take some cushy Ministry job when you-"

"Roy," Maes said quietly.

That was all it was. Just his name.

But it was enough.

Quietly, Maes held up one scarred hand, silencing him with all the force of a spell. His face was drawn and his eyes shadowed but sure- everything about him, in fact, was so resigned, so defeated that it was familiar in a way that felt like a punch to the face... and yet, devoid of any and all doubts. Sure of himself in a way that made very, very clear that his mind was already made up.

Slowly, carefully, Maes moved to push himself back away from Roy, settling himself on the end of the bed to try and get as good a look at him as he could. He took a deep breath, the sound shaking slightly in the stifling silence, then paused, as if unsure what to say. His hand lowered to his lap to wring nervously into his pants, clenching at them then just jerking right back to his face, his mouth, for him to chew on his nails in that nervous habit from third year that Roy recognized as the one that had once left his hands perpetually bleeding. He reached out wordlessly, grabbing it by the wrist to pull it back down and shake his head.

Somehow, however, this gesture only seemed to make Maes' face fall even more.

"Roy," he said quietly again. He stared miserably down to his lap, but at least he continued to allow him to hold his hand down there, too. "Roy, last night, Professor Hohenheim came to visit me. He... he actually wanted to talk to me about what my plans were for the future, too."

"...All right," he ventured guardedly. Hohenheim, while a little more removed than the rest of the professors, had always been one of Maes' biggest supporters at Hogwarts. At least, he had to have been, Roy had always figured- he'd never have been able to come back after second year otherwise. This could only be something good, right? At the very least, it couldn't be _bad..._

His best friend fidgeted again, now biting his lip, then the inside of his cheek, as if now that he couldn't bite at his fingers he at least had to hurt himself in _some_ way to keep his head clear. "Well," he started, then stopped, frown pulling down again. "...He talked with me about this- this group he has. The Order of the Phoenix, he said. A lot of Aurors, a lot of wizards who didn't want to work for the Ministry but were good enough anyway, a lot who weren't good enough for the Aurors but still wanted to help in some way... he said it a war effort. He started back it back when You-Know-Who was still active, he said they did a lot in the war, last time around, and that he's reforming it now. You know, for whenever he resurfaces."

Roy scowled. "You-Know-Who's in hiding. He and his supporters haven't crawled out of their holes in decades."

"Yeah, but we always knew he'd come back _someday_ , and Hohenheim said there's a lot of signs that it's happening soon," Maes pressed on, gesturing absently. "Anyway, this group- this, uh... Order of the Phoenix. Well... he said he hoped that I would consider joining."

Roy's eyes widened at this, _finally_ some of that hot anger clenching his stomach into knots starting to dissolve. It still hurt, but this time, it was something that he could breathe through, and he tilted his head to the side, slowly thinking his way through this sudden new dump of information. No wonder Maes had seem preoccupied when he'd woken up.

"A secret rebel group against You-Know-Who, huh?" he asked finally, managing a small smile. "Well, I'll give it to him, that sounds exactly like Hohenheim... and if he says You-Know-Who is trying to start another war- hell, I'll believe him over the Daily Prophet. ...and ... and, you said it's... got a lot of Aurors in it?"

This time, slowly, Roy looked after where Olivier had just left- and then, a slow, tenacious sort of smile started to spread its way across his face.

No _wonder_ Maes had jumped on Olivier's offer so immediately.

"Well..." he started quietly, smirking, "if that's the case- maybe that's not such a bad-"

"Wait. Buddy, wait, it's... it's just not that simple. Just slow down, okay?" Maes waved for him to stop again, face even more drawn and hesitant than before, this time his green eyes flitting nervously away with with a sudden almost... almost _shame_ glimmering darkly in them. He still refused to meet Roy's gaze, now staring so firmly down at his own lap it was like a magnet had trapped it there, and clearly remained so uncomfortable he clearly would've been happier if he could just hunker down into his blankets and never be seen again- but he forged on ahead, confident enough in his own words to push through without pause... even if he didn't seem to be able to look at Roy as he said them.

"Listen, Roy, Hohenheim actually talked to me about a lot of stuff, last night... what he'd want from me, if I agreed to join." He scratched uncomfortably at his messy hair, hunching over a little. "Apparently werewolves are actually part of what You-Know-Who is trying to do. I guess I've been pretty isolated from hearing about it, being at Hogwarts, but- but, he's got a lot of us siding with him. A lot of are, um, pretty angry at how the Ministry treats us and... I guess You-Know-Who just capitalized on that anger."

His best friend looked increasingly uncomfortable with this, Roy noted. As if with every layer deeper that he cut into this, the more and more he did not want to be doing it.

Something about this really did not sit right with him.

"...All right," he prodded guardedly, his stomach twisting.

Maes hesitated, throat jumping, the hand in Roy's suddenly twitching as if he wanted to bite at it again. Roy once more gripped it tighter. "Well," the Hufflepuff went on quietly, "Hohenheim said he thought I could do a lot of good if I let him send me to the groups of werewolves on the other side. You know, try to get to know them, see if there were any I might be able to convince to join us- and at least learn how to best fight back against them if there aren't. He said that that was the reason why he wanted me to join the Order of the Phoenix."

There was an uncertain, long period of silence. Maes fidgeted a little beside him, seeming to want to withdraw back into a nonexistent shell, or perhaps hide right under the bed- anything to get away from the sudden wordless scrutiny.

Roy's eyes narrowed.

"...because you're a werewolf, you mean," he filled in coldly. "That's... that's it."

Maes closed his eyes, shuddered, flinched- and then, nodded. He _nodded._ He swallowed hard again, he looked back to Roy with his pale, bruised face visibly torn with the distress and misery he must've been caught in since last night, but he remained certain in himself because he fucking _nodded_ steadily without even a shadow of doubt, meeting his eyes with a fragile smile, and he said, "Yes." Yes. _Yes._ "That's it, Roy. And... I think I'm going to do it."

And with those words, a cold, unsettled sense of anger swept through him with no need for any more of a cue than that.

Anger, for once, not at Ministry, or Kimbley, or Maes himself- but this time, for Hohenheim.

All but growling, Roy tightened his hand around his best friend's, tugging a little as if a physical shove was all that was needed to yank him straight off this foolish path and settle him back down onto the right one once again. "Well, then change your mind," he snapped shortly. "You've got no reason or obligation to do anything for someone who only judges you as a werewolf. I told you, I wouldn't let you ever have to do something just based off that-"

But Maes pulled his hand away with a sigh, rubbing at his cheeks and darkly circled eyes in a fatigued sort of exasperation. "You're right, Roy. I don't _have_ to do anything. I can very easily just graduate like you, then go home to live with my mom for forever, making a living vanishing euros out of Muggles' pockets. I can just subsist tending your aunt's bar until a miracle professor spot opens up here, then beg McGonagall to give me a shot over the dozens of more qualified applicants even though my resume is just serving drinks, and just really, really hope she says yes. I can stay mad at the world and the werewolf that bit me for forever, and refuse to let myself be treated differently because of who I am, because it's not fair... or, I can accept that life's not fair, and instead do what little I can to try and better it."

"But- but you don't _have_ to, Maes," he begged again, because he'd spent years trying to talk Maes _out_ of this mindset, how had one night with Hohenheim already talked him right back into it-? How- _why-_ "god, there's no reason you've got to-"

"But that doesn't mean I _shouldn't."_ With another heavy sigh, almost groan, his best friend ran a hand through his hair and leaned back a little, blinking at Roy through his darkly bruised, exhausted eyes that did not look like those of someone who had only just turned seventeen. "Roy... buddy, you remember how Kimbley tricked us out into the forest? How you kept trying to tell me we should turn back, but I wouldn't let you and kept pushing to go on until it was too late?"

"I... well... yes." He leaned back himself, shaking his head as he tried to ease the weight of- whatever this was. And what did that have to do with this, anyway? "But, Maes, that was a complicated situation- Kimbley tricked both of us! You couldn't possibly have known how that was going to end!"

Maes shrugged easily. "Well, yeah. But that's not the point. I... I knew the smart thing to do was to go back. That whole time, I knew it. I knew I was a liability, that I could run out of time and ruin everything for all of us, I knew the safest thing to do was to send you two back to find help while I went to the Shrieking Shack- but I couldn't do it, Roy. I couldn't let the fact that I was a werewolf ruin everything... and, then, what ended up happening?" He narrowed his eyes at Roy, staring pointedly at the bandages just barely visible on his chest then back to his face, pressing the point without even needing to say it- but he was Maes Hughes, so of course, he said it anyway, and he said it with a finger point that stopped just short of jabbing him right along the deep cut of the terrible wound. "We both almost got killed, Roy. _I_ nearly got us both killed- because I couldn't accept it. I couldn't accept that I'm a werewolf and that makes me different. That means I'm treated differently. That means I have to do things differently, and- and sometimes, like two nights ago, it seriously screws things up, and can really hurt people, and make me a useless, dangerous dead weight. These are facts, Roy. They're not fair, but they're how it is. And... and I think it's time for me to make the choice to accept that. For me to accept that and, and Roy- if I can accept that about myself, then I think you damn well can, too."

Roy blinked uselessly at him. His tongue felt limp and dead in his mouth, and any and all words he might've wanted to say died a bitter, useless death under the lump in his throat.

His best friend, after a few shaken, shocked moments, dropped Roy's hand again to push his glasses up and look at him with as much confidence as he could- even though that confidence was so thin and shaky and obviously unsure of himself it didn't look real at all. "It... it wouldn't even be forever, you know?" he cajoled, voice softening warmly with a hesitant little shrug. "I know you didn't want me to ever have to do something like this, but Hohenheim said this war has been brewing for a while, but once it finally starts, it's gonna be a short one. I'm not saying I'm giving up on what I wanted to do for _forever_ , just... putting it on hold for a while." With another nervous sort of grin he pushed anxiously at his glasses again, still seeming to be struggling to put off a bravado a lot stronger than what he truly felt. "He even knew we wanted to become professors here. Hohenheim did, I mean. He said that first and foremost, his professors were people that he trusted. He said that if I decided to do this, he'd know that he could trust me."

Roy stiffened again, jerking back away and when that made his chest hurt like Maes had just punched him in it, he just gritted his teeth and hissed and kept going, because he'd hurt worse in his life but _this,_ right now, this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach of bitter, helpless failure and misery at the unfairness of the world- _this_ was the worst he'd felt in a very long time. "So he's _bribing_ you. That's a damn bribe, Maes!"

But his best friend just shrugged easily again, giving him another weak sort of smile. "Is he wrong? I mean, think about it from his perspective. He needs professors who'll be willing to stand up for the students here and fight for them, not just go running because it's unfair. He's just asking me to prove he can trust me to do that. And you can prove that to him, too, Roy. You can take Olivier up on her offer, and I can take Hohenheim up on his, and... someday, after we've done what we can to help stop this war?" He offered a second warm smile, this one stronger than the last, gingerly reaching out to touch his hand again. "We can come back here together. The way we always planned to"

He shook his head again, opening and shutting his mouth uselessly, wanting to again just say something to stop this, because this still wasn't _right,_ not to him, it wasn't fair that Maes only had one path forward while Roy still had so many, it wasn't fair that Hohenheim would use Maes' werewolf infection for himself while for Roy, the sky was the limit, it wasn't fair or right, he wanted to say something, convince that quiet resignation flickering through his eyes right off his face-

And it didn't matter, because, looking at his best friend sitting there, hand in his, and smile firmly on his face even if it didn't quite reach his eyes, it was clear that his mind was already made up.

No- more than that. Maes wasn't resigned to doing this, he seemed like he _wanted_ to do this. This genuinely seemed like something that he'd thought about, and determined that it was what he wanted to do.

Roy had heard about those werewolf groups Maes was talking about infiltrating. He'd overheard more and more about groups like it when he spent his summers at home, sometimes even meeting the members themselves, because when his aunt said she let all types in, she meant _all_.

They... weren't good. In fact, they were pretty terrible. They...

God, they were downright fucking dangerous. Some were vile, downright disgusting wastes of space that joked about biting kids, and took their steaks raw because they liked the looks they got when they grinned with bloody teeth.

And Maes was going to plant himself into them anyway.

Because it was something that he could do to try and make a difference- and he wanted to try it.

As much as he could try, Roy already knew that he couldn't bring himself to talk Maes out of something he wanted to do.

A lump tightened in his throat again, growing until he abruptly didn't trust himself to speak, because he _wasn't_ going to let Maes hear his voice crack, no, sir. He leaned back again, trying to get himself to relax, or at least look like he'd relaxed, feeling limp and exhausted and so fucking drained, staring down at his own bruises and his new scar and mouth full of bitterness because he had no idea what to say.

Maes sighed theatrically after a few moments, shaking his head as he pushed himself forward again, awkwardly maneuvering himself to sit a close to Roy, just close enough to nudge his fist into his good shoulder. "Look, Roy," he said, gentler now, "you've done a whole lot for me. You've supported me every step of the way and defended me more than anyone should have to. And I'm grateful to you for it, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have gotten this far without you- but that's also what happened in the forest. And whether- w-whether it's my fault or not... it almost got you killed. Well- I need to stand on my own feet now." He managed a fragile sort of half smirk, half smile, rubbing a hand along his tired, scarred face again. "I'm a big boy, just like you... I promise I can do it. I know you wanted to shield me from this my whole life but at some point, I have to sink or swim on my own. Well... if you're really my friend, Roy, then- you're going to have to let me try."

There was another lump in his throat. Another thick, miserable lump in his throat that was far beyond his strength to swallow down, and a pain in his chest that was suddenly too massive to soothe.

His eyes burned, even as, with nearly all the strength he had, he forced himself through one tiny, pathetic nod. "O... okay," he croaked, voice cracking.

And, of course, because Maes had about as much tact as a troll and his cure to a sad friend was to punch the sadness away, he rolled his eyes, face stretching into a warm, confident smile that was all heart and all a lie, and nudged at Roy's shoulder with his fist again. "Come on, quit looking so miserable! It's not so bad, you idiot- we made it this far together, and some day, we'll come back here together, too. I promise, okay? For now, we just need to fight our own battles for a change. I can stand on my own, Roy... I don't need you to protect me anymore." He paused, expression starting to slip into a teasing sort of smirk. "Or are you trying to say that you need _me_ to protect you? Is that why you look like a kicked puppy, huh? You're disappointed your master has decided to take a brief vacation and not bring you along with him? You think you'll be lonely?"

"Oh, shut _up."_ The jab back was just a little thick, even to Roy's own ears, but he swallowed it into silence as he reached out to punch Maes's arm right back. "Lonely... you know, if they're all like Olivier, I think I'll _like_ being an Auror. I'll be able to exist without being blabbered at for the first time in seven years."

"Yeah, and maybe I'll finally make some friends you don't make fun of me for shedding."

"You shed," Roy deadpanned, "like a fucking _dog._ My bed is fucking covered in the stuff. Have you ever been in my room? No, no you have not, but I can hardly so much as sit down without finding myself up to my elbows in your _hair_."

Maes laughed again, this time reaching out with one hand to tug gently on his hair, the other reaching out to clasp him by the shoulder, close enough to a hug that he might as well have just pulled him all the way in anyway. "In that case... are you sure that's not your _own_ hair?"

_"Shut UP!"_

His best friend laughed, tugging happily again on his hair, dodging Roy's desperate attempts to shove him off as his smile beamed even brighter- just in time for the door to the hospital wing to swing open once again. And this time, for perhaps the first time since they'd both ended up here, it was to reveal somebody both entirely surprising- and entirely welcome.

_"Maes!"_

Maes blinked. His hand dropped from abusing Roy's hair, limp and still down to his lap, his mouth dropping open to form a little _o_. He blinked again, utterly speechless.

He didn't have the time to even respond more than that, just blink up at her and stare as the woman all but sprinted over from the door, hair frazzled and cheeks wet and face distraught and stained with tears. She stared down at them both, crying and fruitlessly wiping at her face and sniffling for just one frantic heartbeat, blinking a desperate examination over the both of them, and then, she threw herself right down at Maes to wrap her arms around him so quickly he'd barely had the time to say, "Mum?"

Roy, however, did not have any time to smirk at Maes and enjoy his surprise for himself.

Because his aunt had come in right behind her.

"Roy!" she demanded, striding just as quickly towards him, fierce and unwavering as much as Maes' mother had been emotional and terrified, hands on her hips and eyes flashing in a silent _danger,_ "Roy Mustang, you silly, silly boy-"

And, just like Maes, he ended up in her arms, somewhat squished into a hug, his hair being stroked so aggressively it was nearly yanked out of his head. "You stupid, daring, crazed, danger-loving, idiotic _boy!_ "

"A-Aunt Chris... _please..."_

"Don't _please_ me, young man! You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"And so could _you!"_ Maes' mother pulled back from her son to wipe her face, sniffling and frantic. "You scared us both so much, do you know that?!"

"...I... s-sorry, Mum...?"

"Sorry? You _should_ be sorry!"

Roy and Maes jumped again, the both of them together, staring at each other because that had not been either one of their guardians. They blinked simultaneously, Maes now bedraggled and hair mussed and Roy sure he was no better, then, together, turned backed to stare at the door.

This time, it was for Riza to lead the charge inside.

Already in full-lecture mode.

"-so risky and dangerous, never asking for help, the both of you-"

"Did you like what we brought you? We hoped- but we can get you something else-" Kain started anxiously, touching the stolen blankets.

"We brought books! All the books! Just because you're stuck here doesn't mean you can't spend every hour studying like the rest of us!" Heymans continued, lugging a horrifying pile with him into the room.

"-and is it true a thestral tried to _eat you,_ Roy, did you get your face licked by a thestral-"

"Havoc, that's not the point, the point is he nearly got himself _killed_ by a _troll_ -"

"Technically speaking," Vato cut in, "that wasn't a troll, that was a-"

"Roy-boy, if you _ever_ do _anything_ like this again-"

Roy slumped somewhat pathetically, his face warming miserably and his ears and neck suddenly burning as he stared woefully at Maes. His best friend looked just as embarrassed as he did, just as willing to crawl under the blankets to never be seen again, even as his hair got ruffled in the same heartbeat as Roy's and their group of friends joined him on his bed, all talking a mile a minute and so excited to find them awake he could barely grasp it.

Even as they were both manhandled, lectured, cried on, and jostled, he looked quietly back at Maes.

His best friend nodded once reassuringly back, and somehow, amongst all the chaos, reached over to rest his hand on Roy's wrist.

A promise that this wasn't over.

A promise that no matter what the coming years would bring, and no matter what they'd gone through in the forest, and no matter what horrors they were going to have to fight through in the war that was to come, that they'd all survive, and make it back here.

Roy nodded back, and smiled.

 


End file.
